


Don’t Leave Me to Bleed

by dabforpalermo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Bipolar Disorder, For the most part, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabforpalermo/pseuds/dabforpalermo
Summary: Laura approaches the door and knocks gently. A large man opens it, along with a pretty woman hanging off his sleeve. The man looks Mickey up and down before speaking.“I thought you were bringing a kid.”Or: Mickey Milkovich’s tales in foster care.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Kev Ball & Mickey Milkovich, Kev Ball/Veronica Fisher, Mickey Milkovich & Everyone, Veronica Fisher & Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 241
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for drugs and alcohol, and a tiny mention of sexual abuse canon to season 3. The timeline isn’t canon to the show. Also I do not own any of these characters (I wish). Happy reading!

“Mikhailo-“

“Mickey.”

Laura sighs, placing her clipboard on the table and clasping her hands together. “Mickey, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Nah, you got some shit on your lip. Can't focus on a word you’ve been sayin’.”

Laura rolls her eyes but casually slides her thumb over her bottom lip. “You will be staying in this house from now on. Kevin and Veronica are a lovely couple, they will take great care of you.”

“Yeah, I don’t need to be fucking taken care of. I’m fine by myself.”

“You are 16, Mikhailo-“

“Mickey.”

Laura narrows her eyes. “You have to go into this home with an open mind. You’ve been thrown around foster homes for years, and this whole game of yours is getting pretty old.”

Mickey looks at the ground. “Why the fuck can’t I just get a job and live on my own?”

“Because you’re a teenager. You are not legally allowed to live by yourself. Please just… give this a shot. Please.”

“Jesus, don’t get your fucking panties in a twist,” Mickey mumbles, leaning back on the chair. “Fine. I’ll go make friendship bracelets and shit. Play catch. Bake cookies.”

Laura smiles softly, laying her hand over Mickey’s tattooed ones. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.”

-

The house is shitty. It’s tiny and looks worn out, but then again, any house this side of Chicago will be shitty. Mickey almost recognizes the exterior before reminding himself every structure looks the same down here. It’s a nice colour, though. 

“Mickey, I’m really proud of you for doing this. You’ve been through so much and every new opportunity you will have at this home will be well overdue. I just want to take a minute and-“

“Jesus fucking Christ. Let me out.”

Laura sighs, unlocking the door and stepping out. Mickey pretty much slams the door shut, glaring at the drunk old man laying on the pavement at the house next door who yells unintelligibly. “Watch the language while you are in there, Mikhailo.”

“Fuck off.”

Laura approaches the door and knocks gently. A large man opens it, along with a pretty woman hanging off his sleeve. The man looks Mickey up and down before speaking. 

“I thought you were bringing a kid.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “See? Didn’t work out. Sorry for wasting your time.” He turns around, but Laura places a hand up and stops him. The man splutters for a moment. 

“No, no. It’s fine. Just- wasn’t prepared.”

Mickey peers into the house. Laura squeezes his shoulder and smiles at the couple. “May we come in?”

“Of course.”

Mickey walks in, looking around and trying to decide how much everything in the house is worth. Worst case scenario, he gets booted, and can pawn some of this for beer money and cigs. Veronica gives him a look and gestures toward the table, a fake smile plastered to her face. 

“I’m Veronica, this is my husband Kevin. You can call us whatever you want.” She clasps her hands together awkwardly. “I made spaghetti.”

“Great. Enjoy. Where’s my room?”

Laura slaps him on the shoulder gently. “Mikhailo, please sit.”

He meets Kevin’s eyes, the man offering a smirk and sitting down next to his wife. Laura stands beside Mickey, handing a file over to Kevin. Laura clears her throat and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“So, Mikhailo-“

“It’s fucking Mickey, Jesus Christ.”

Kev snorts out a laugh, which causes Mickey to turn and glare at him. Veronica tightens her grip on Kevin’s hand. Laura clenches her fist in Mickey’s shirt, letting out a sigh of exasperation and stepping back. 

“You have my phone number if you need to contact me. Behave, Mickey. I’m not kidding.”

Mickey rolls his eyes, staring down at his fists and running his eyes over his tattoos. Laura and Veronica have a hushed conversation at the door, meanwhile Kevin looks like he’s trying to study him. Mickey looks up and narrows his eyes. 

“You want a fuckin’ picture, man bun?”

Before Kevin can answer, Veronica places a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, serving herself and Kev as well. It’s awkward as they begin to eat, but Kev carefully decides to speak. 

“So, how old are you?”

Mickey picks through his pasta. “Sixteen.”

“Coulda fooled me. You must be able to get into anywhere, man.”

Mickey smirks a little. Veronica exhales and places her hands on the table. 

“I think we should go over some ground rules,” she forces a smile. “Like.. no drinking. In the house. And no drugs, please. Cops come around multiple times a month, and I can’t be caught with shit in my house. Got it?”

Mickey nods, slowly bringing some noodles to his mouth. It’s good, he’ll give the chick that. 

“And.. respect. We’ll give you whatever privacy you need, but you have to respect us. Vice versa.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“I’ll show you your room after dinner.”

Kev leads him to a bedroom at the end of the hallway after they finish eating, Mickey not offering to help with the dishes and Veronica not bothering to force him. It’s a nice room, as nice as you can get on the south side, but Mickey especially takes notice of the window, big enough to sneak out of. 

“Uh.. just put your stuff wherever. Do you like.. have a bedtime?”

“No, I don’t have a fuckin’ bedtime,” Mickey gripes, dropping his bag on the bed and flopping down. He closes his eyes for a minute, but cracks them open when he feels Kev still glaring at him. “Jesus Christ, can I help you?”

“No, just- trying to figure you out, I guess.”

Mickey looks at the clock on the nightstand. 8:05. He stands up and closes the door in Kev’s face, rolling his eyes. He slowly starts to unpack. 

At around 10, a knock on his door is heard. Mickey waits for the person to barge in, but when they just stand outside his closed door, he clears his throat. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. Yeah.”

Veronica enters, smiling a little at Mickey and leaning back against the doorframe. “How are you settling in?”

“Uh.. not bad.” Mickey wants to be harsh with her, but the last time he was impolite to one of the wives, the husband beat him until he was numb. So, he answers her questions lamely, hoping she can get the hint. 

“That’s good.” She shifts on her feet for a moment, looking unsure. “So, the neighbours are close friends, and they invited us over tomorrow for dinner. I would really like you to come, if that’s okay.”

Mickey ponders it for a moment. “They got any daughters?”

Veronica chuckles, slowly walking to his bed and sitting down. Mickey tenses for a second. 

“Yeah, one my age, and one who’s 10.”

Mickey scoots back against the headboard and frowns. “That’s shitty.”

“They’re dysfunctional. But entertaining.” 

Mickey nods, looking down at his hands and clenching his fingers a little. The tattoos on his knuckles still hurt, the product of a bad trip and a tattoo artist who didn’t know what the hell he was doing and screwed up his skin. Months of healing barely scratched the surface of the relief he was expecting. 

“So, you wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Veronica stands, fiddling with the hem of her shirt and walking back to the door. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mhm.”

“Goodnight, Mickey.”

“Yeah. Night.”

He doesn’t have the energy to sneak out that night. 

-

Mickey has suffered through his fair share of awkward mornings. The risings following uncomfortable one night stands that he was too intoxicated to ditch, the scary dawns after nights when his foster families beat him black and blue and he has to pretend it doesn’t blind him with pain to sit down. But this… this is the worst morning he’s been put through. 

The three of them sit at the table in silence, chewing on toast and avoiding eye contact. Mickey wants nothing more than to bolt, before a loud knock is heard on the door. 

“V! I need you!”

“Aw, shit.” 

Veronica stands, opening the door, and is immediately met with a small child being pushed in her arms. 

“I need you to watch Liam for me. Please.”

“I don’t know, Fi. Mickey’s still settling in-“

“Who the fuck is Mickey?”

Kev gives Mickey a look of pity. “Just give them a minute.”

“Our foster kid, Fiona. I told you about this.”

“Oh, shit. Hi!” She looks at him, smiling. Mickey nods in greeting and finishes his toast. “Please. Just for a couple hours.”

“Fine. We still on for dinner?”

“Of course.” Fiona kisses Veronica’s cheek. “Hi, Kev.”

Kev gives her a grin and watches as Veronica closes the door, balancing Liam on her hip. The toddler squirms, and when she lets him down, he stumbles over to Mickey, grabbing at his leg. 

“Fuck do you want?”

“Up!”

Mickey raises an eyebrow, looking over to Kev for permission. He shrugs and returns back to his conversation, not paying any mind to the teenager. Mickey slowly picks Liam up and places the kid on his lap, trying to fight back the smile playing at his lips, his hands holding Liam carefully. He briefly recognizes the kid, but shakes the thought off. 

“Mickey, do you want to take him to your room for a bit?”

“Uh, sure. I guess.”

Mickey stands, holding Liam tight and walking back to his room. He’s never liked kids, but in a weird way, he’s thankful for Liam’s appearance. It takes Kev and V’s attention off him. 

He likes them, sure, but his guard is still up. He’s been to plenty of homes where the parents have been lovely the first week, then Mickey misplaces a sock in the laundry and he’s being beat with whatever they can find on hand. He can’t trust these people 

“Mi..”

Mickey looks down at the kid, frowning a little. “Mickey.”

“Meemy!”

“Yeah, whatever. Good enough.”

“‘Member.”

“Hm?”

Liam’s tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth. He looks like he has something to say, so Mickey leans in closer, but the kid sighs in frustration and hits his fist down on Mickey’s thigh. 

“Oh, the fuck was that for?”

Mickey pushes Liam gently, the toddler giggling and climbing back up. They continue to play fight for a little bit, until Mickey plays dead and Liam cheers. 

They spend a while together, Liam rambling on in baby talk and Mickey pretending to understand. As much as he dislikes children, he’s good with them; that comes from his many years of having to raise Mandy and babysit the kids from his previous homes. It suddenly hits him. Liam Gallagher. He looked after the kid in a foster home a few months ago, if he can remember correctly. A knock at his door startles him out of his thoughts. 

“Come in.”

“Hey, thanks for watching him. We just had to figure some shit out,” Veronica says. “I have to go to the mall, do you want to come? We can get you some new clothes.”

“I’m fine. Don’t need your shit.”

Veronica raises an eyebrow. “Don’t take this personally, kid, but you look every bit of the south side that we usually try to hide.” 

“I’m not gonna go play fuckin’ dress up.”

“Then take my card and buy what you want.”

Mickey looks at Liam, as if he were making a negotiation with the kid. “Alright. Works for me.”

“Alright, let’s get moving. Kev will drop us off before work.”

The majority of the day is wasted at the mall, Mickey rolling his eyes whenever he sees a group of teenage girls giggling about whatever the fuck seems to be funny enough to cause such a disruption in public, but Veronica gave him her credit card, so that’s a plus at least. 

He heads toward the ATM, taking out some cash and shoving it in his pocket before anyone else can see. He’s stolen a couple of clothing items, knowing how to avoid security like the back of his hand (which is still throbbing, by the way). Veronica took Liam and gave Mickey permission to stay as long as he likes, and told him how to take the L home, as if he’s a fucking child and doesn’t know how public transportation works. Still, he’s unavoidably anxious for dinner, hoping the family they’re meeting won’t be as uppity as he’s expecting. Mickey has no intentions of dressing up. 

He grabs an outfit for tonight, a random pair of jeans he hopes will fit and a muscle shirt similar to the one he wears all the time, and pockets a container of hair gel and deodorant on his way out. He barely steps over the line before the alarm sounds, which is unusual, because Mickey never remembers there being working alarms in this area. He doesn’t have time to ponder this tonight before a security guard is yelling at him, and Mickey takes off, finding peace in the blurred footprints left by his dirty shoes, the only real evidence existing thag Mickey Milkovich was seen at a public mall. 

He stops by a familiar alley on the way home, handing a couple bills for some drugs and a couple bottles of beer. He pockets the baggies and wordlessly walks back to the house, carrying too many clothes to walk comfortably. As Mickey approaches Kev and V’s place, he slides his eyes over to the house next to theirs, peering in their window nonchalantly and trying to catch anybody inside. When it’s decided the house is abandoned, he heads back into his own, placing the clothes on his bed and exhaling heavily. 

God, he hopes the family next door is all as cool as Liam is. 

——————

“Mickey? Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Christ.” He rolls his eyes, opening the door and shifting self consciously on his feet as Veronica smiles kindly at him. 

“You look handsome.”

“Can we go?”

Kev joins the pair, sporting a bottle of wine and hardening his eyes when he sees Mickey staring. “Hey, this is for the adults.”

“Goddamn party pooper.”

“That’s me. Let’s go.” Kev grins. He goes to ruffle Mickey’s hair, but the boy flinches and swats at his hand, so Kev pulls back and shrugs. They walk over to the Gallagher residence, Mickey standing nervously behind his foster parents. He doesn’t like meeting new people. 

“Fi? Oh, Jesus, what the hell happened?”

“I burnt the fucking cookies.”

Mickey looks around. It’s an alright house, decorated with personal items, and Mickey almost thinks of his old place.

“It’s fine. Kev, help set the table.”

Mickey stands awkwardly, sitting down at a random spot Kev points him in the direction of. Nobody else is downstairs, so he feels fine, until Fiona calls down for her family, and all of a sudden it’s like Mickey got a baseball bat to the chest. Before he can freak out and run off, Liam is punching his brother in the arm to be let down, and sprints toward Mickey. 

“Meemy!”

“Hey, little man.”

Liam makes grabby hands for Mickey, so the teenager pulls the kid up and rests him on his lap. Liam presses his face into Mickey’s chest and breathes deeply, content and calm. It’s only then Mickey realizes everyone in the room has gone silent and is staring at him. 

“Uh, the fuck are you looking at?”

An older boy shrugs, raising an eyebrow at Mickey. “Nothing, he just is usually pretty reserved.”

Before Mickey can start throwing insults, Veronica stands beside him and places a hand on his shoulder. “This is Mickey, our foster kid. Be nice. Please.”

“I’m Lip.”

“That’s a stupid fuckin’ name.”

“So is Mickey.” He grins slyly. “This is Carl, Debbie, I’m assuming you know Fiona, and Ian- where is he?”

“Working late. Said he would be back by 8.”

Mickey nods in greeting, Veronica pats his shoulder once before going to help Fiona. Liam chews on the front of Mickey’s shirt. 

“He seems real close with you, man,” Lip comments. 

“Was he in the system a while back?”

“Yeah. We all were. Happens every once in a while.” 

“Think I had the kid in a home with me.”

Lip raises an eyebrow. “Ah, shit. Makes sense, I guess.”

They drop it, everyone breaking out into friendly chatter before the door swings open. Mickey flinches a little and turns toward the disruption, his heart stopping in his throat at the sight of the boy standing there. He’s tall, his hair messy and framing his face, and he has some big goofy grin that leaves Mickey’s mouth dry. 

“Hey, sweet face. How was work?” Fiona smiles, pressing a kiss to Ian’s cheek. 

“Good! Kash let me take home some snacks, so I have dessert.”

The boy, Ian, Mickey presumes, looks around the table before his eyes land on Mickey and Liam. He walks toward the two and bends down, getting at Liam’s level, which simultaneously puts him by Mickey’s chest. 

“Hey, buddy. Who’s this?”

“Meemy!”

“Hi, Meemy, I’m Ian.” 

Mickey blushes. He honest to god blushes, like some stupid chick. Before he can open his mouth and embarrass himself further, Kev speaks up. 

“It’s Mickey, he’s our foster kid.”

Ian looks up from his position by Mickey’s chest. “Nice to meet you.”

Mickey feels a tug at his heart. He doesn’t want to make this anymore awkward, so he clears his throat and hardens his glance. “Yeah, hi, whatever.”

Ian raises an eyebrow, sliding his coat off and sitting in the chair next to him. Fiona and Veronica put the food on the table, Mickey instinctively grabbing for it before anyone else has a chance. He’s been in a lot of homes where it’s first come first serve when it comes to food. He can feel the family’s gaze on him, so he lifts his head and sends a glare around, everyone except Ian staring at him impolitely as if he were some animal in a zoo exhibit. The ginger boy is focused on digging through the food to make his own plate, starting to tell a story about his day at work.

Dinner is oddly normal, surprisingly. Nobody really talks to Mickey, though Veronica and Kev keep trying to include him in their conversations. When they’re finished, Mickey stands, heading over toward Lip and hesitantly tapping his shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“I got some joints and a few beers if you want.”

“Shit, yeah. Here?”

“Nah, meet me outside in a few.”

“I’ll grab Ian.” 

Mickey scratches at the back of his neck, walking over to his foster parents. “Uh, think I’m gonna head back now.” 

“Are you sure?” Kev frowns. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fuckin’ fine.”   
  


“Alright.” Kev takes a pause before gently patting Mickey’s shoulder, the boy flinching but not slapping him away. “Good night, Mickey.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.”

He grabs the joints and beers from under his bed and throws them in his backpack, sneaking through the front door and meeting the Gallagher brothers outside their houses. Ian is wearing a heavy coat, blowing cold puffs of air, and Lip is glued to his phone, angrily typing away.

“Hey, Mickey.”   
  


Mickey nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and inhaling sharply. He only now remembers he forgot to get a jacket at the mall. The three of them walk around for a while, settling at the park located at the high school. Mickey sits down by the slide and opens his backpack, lighting up a joint and breathing in deeply. He passes it to Ian, his breath getting caught in his throat as their fingers brush, and he coughs loudly, gaining the attention of Lip.

“Jesus, you ever fucking smoked before?”   
  


“Do you  _ want _ to fucking die?”

“Easy, killer,” Ian chuckles, passing the joint back to Mickey. Lip sighs heavily and stands.

“Karen needs me for some bullshit.”

“That your girlfriend?”

“Kinda. Yeah.” Lip grabs the joint from Mickey’s lip and takes a hit, wincing a little and passing it back to Ian. “Let me put my info on your phone and I’ll text you about a rain check. Sorry,” he says, grabbing Mickey’s worn out phone and typing something in before taking off.

It’s quiet for a minute before Ian reaches over, Mickey jumping slightly.

“Calm down,” Ian mumbles, grabbing a couple beers from the bag and opening them. He places one next to Mickey and takes a swig of the other, clearing his throat silently. 

“So, do you like Kev and V?”

“They’re just doing this shit for the money.”

“Yeah.”

Mickey furrows his eyebrows, taking another hit before passing it to Ian, the other boy shaking his head in rejection. “That’s the part where you’re supposed to tell me they aren’t.”

“Not gonna lie to you, man. I love them, I really do, but I know they just agreed to do this for the cash,” Ian says, shifting a little. “Doesn’t mean they won’t like you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t fuckin’ need them to like me.”

“Alright, just saying, they might.”

“Fuck off.” Mickey swallows down some of his beer, shivering. Ian frowns. 

“Do you want my jacket?”

“The fuck kind of queer do I look like? Of course I don’t want your fucking jacket.”

“Sorry.” Ian shrugs. He shuffles his feet before standing, dusting down his pants and looking off to the distance. Mickey thinks he’s about to walk out, but the younger looking boy points in a different direction. “I know a cool spot. C’mon.”

Mickey stares at him in confusion for a minute and grabs his bag, following the over excited kid. He stares at the fence ahead of them with his eyebrow raised, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never hopped a fence before.”

“Fuck off, Gallagher.”

Ian climbs over the fence, making grabby hands for the backpack. Mickey passes it to him and stands on his toes, trying to get leverage before jumping up. He almost wipes out at the bottom, but Ian grabs onto his arm, and for once, he doesn’t flinch. 

“This is your ‘cool’ spot?”

“It’s not bad.”

“Whatever, man.” Mickey shakes, only then realizing Ian’s slender fingers are still wrapped around his wrist. He breathes in and pushes the boy away, sitting down on the bench and looking out at the baseball field. 

“I used to play here when I was a kid,” Mickey says, opening another beer and looking out at the diamond.

“Really? Me too.”   
  


“Yeah. Played one game in ‘02 and got booted.”

“Shit, what happened?” Ian asks, using the bar at the end of the dugout to start doing pull ups. Mickey glances at his ab muscles as they contract, taking a second before looking away and remembering he was asked a question.

“Coach said some stupid shit. Pissed on first base.”

Ian laughs. “I remember that.”   
  


“What, you heard about it?”

Ian drops down from the bar, the same goofy grin on his face from earlier that evening. He walks toward Mickey and gestures to the diamond before grabbing another beer and sipping it, holding it between his hands. “I was on second.”

Mickey snorts, trapping his hands between his thighs and breathing out shakily. “This neighbourhood was wack.”

Ian sits down next to him, bouncing his leg up and down. “Man, you’re a Milkovich, huh?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. So fuckin’ what?”

“I know your sister.”

The shorter boy freezes, turning to Ian and tilting his head. “You know Mandy?”   
  


“Yeah, she’s in my classes. We hang out all the time.”

Mickey sniffs, lighting up another blunt and inhaling. “How’s she doing?”

“Pretty good. She was just at my house a couple days ago.”

Mickey suddenly stands, glaring at Ian. “What, are you two fucking or something?”

Ian shakes his head, looking a little frightened. “No, no, it’s really not like that. At all. I don’t like her.”

“Now you’re calling her fucking ugly?”

“No, Jesus, I don’t even- nevermind,” Ian sighs, blowing warm air into his hands and shrugging. “We aren't fucking or dating or anything. She’s just my friend. She, uh, she never mentioned having a brother.”

“Yeah, sounds right. Whatever, just fucking drop it.”

Ian looks down at his watch. “We should probably get back soon.”

“You got a curfew?”   
  


“No, but don’t Kev and V want you home?”

Mickey shrugs. “Told them I was going to sleep. They won’t check.”

“Well, we can just chill here for a bit.”

“Yeah, whatever, red,” Mickey mumbles, sitting down on the ground in front of Ian and blowing out wind. They’re quiet for a few minutes before Ian speaks again.

“You good?”

“Just fine.”

Mickey sniffs, finishing off the blunt and dropping it onto the ground. His vision is blurring, and he can feel his heartbeat quickening, leaving his throat dry. He runs a hand through his hair and twitches, glaring down at the ground as it starts to spin. 

“Man, are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally,” Mickey slurs, leaning his head on the bench and breathing out steadily. He closes his eyes as well, letting the freezing sensation of the wind and the panicked protests coming from Ian rock him to sleep. 

It’s the first peaceful rest he’s had in a while. 

———————

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Jesus, V, I think he OD’d or something.”

“You can’t overdose on weed, Kev. Give me a sec.”

Mickey’s eyes are torn open, barely able to lift his hands to sway at the imposing fingers. He groans lightly and shifts, thankful to find himself on a couch. He tries to recall his memory, and sits up suddenly when he realizes he’s no longer at the baseball diamond. 

“Hey, easy, now. Lay back down.” Kev pushes on his shoulder lightly. 

“What…”

“I think you took some laced shit.”

“Fuck,” Mickey blinks heavily and coughs a little. “Do you have to call that bitch?”

“What bitch?” Veronica asks, grabbing Mickey’s wrist and checking his pulse. When she finds it steady enough, she sighs and stands up. 

“DCFS.”

“No. We aren’t sending you back, man. We just need to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fucking fine. Can I go sleep it off or something?”

“Where did you get this shit?”

“Some alley, I dunno.”

“Come on, kid. This is serious. You could’ve died.”

“I wasn’t gonna die. You think this is the first time I’ve taken laced drugs? I’ll be fine in a couple hours.”

“Alright, but..” Veronica looks to Kev, mustering up something maternal on her face. It freaks Mickey out. “We are going to talk about this when you wake up.”

“Fine. Jesus.” Mickey slowly stands, Kev placing a hand on his back to keep him steady, to which Mickey slaps away and stumbles back to his room. He closes the door and collapses on the bed, breathing deeply. He only realizes when he stands to turn off the light that he has a jacket on, and with further inspection, he recognizes it as Ian’s. He sighs and digs through the pockets, trying to find his phone. 

_ From: Lip Gallagher  _

Hey man text me when you wake up

Mickey scowls, typing out a quick response. 

_ To: Lip Gallagher  _

wtf happened

_ From: Lip Gallagher _

Whatever the hell you had was laced. You passed out and Ian freaked and called me. Had to carry your heavy ass home 

_ To: Lip Gallagher  _

thts fucked 

He waits a minute. 

_ To: Lip Gallagher  _

ian good?

He cringes at the meaning behind his text, bouncing his leg nervously. He’s not an idiot, he knows deep down he finds the boy attractive, but as long as he can convince himself it’s just because he looks like a girl, he will be fine. 

_ From: Lip Gallagher  _

Yeah he’s okay. He wanted me to give you his number though, he was rly worried 

Mickey copies the number Lip sends him and types out a message, sending it before he can overthink. 

_ To: Ian _

im alive 

_ From: Ian _

that’s good. i would feel a bit responsible if i was there for your death 

_ To: Ian _

why tf did you bring me home

_ From: Ian _

dude u were tweaking

Mickey cringes. He’s been laced many times before, exposed to probably every drug that exists, but he never has bad reactions. He supposes it was the combination of alcohol and stress. 

_ To: Ian _

whatever man thx

_ From: Ian _

:^)

Mickey places the phone on his nightstand, slowly undressing and climbing under the covers. His head is pounding and his mouth is dry, but for some reason, he can’t fall asleep. He can’t help but think of Ian. The kid is almost his age, so there’s no problem there, it’s just the fact that he’s a dude and Mickey is not ready for that kind of jump yet. He just has to do what he always does when he has feelings he doesn’t want to have. 

Ignore them. 

He’s never believed in love at first sight. Hell, Mickey doesn’t believe in love in general. So, he closes his eyes harder, curls up a little tighter, and replaces the images of Ian with flashbacks of his father, holding a gun to his head as a woman takes advantage of his crippled state. It’s enough to scare him to sleep. 

He just has to avoid Ian. That’s it. 

It can’t be that hard. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, turns out i accidentally set this to completed work when i published the first chapter. ngl, writing 9000 words in two days is a little challenging, but I really enjoy putting this out. hope you like this chapter!
> 
> TW: ptsd, child abuse, minor sexual assault, violence, the whole shebang

Turns out, avoiding the overexcited son of your next door neighbour is harder than it seems. Almost every day, Ian is texting Mickey, or showing up to his house to ask stupid questions. Mickey tries to answer with no enthusiasm and mask any excitement, but alas, he answers every text and opens the door no matter what. Plus, now that the two of them go to the same school, he has no reason to avoid Ian. The boy is always dragging him away to go run around during lunch. It’s getting annoying. Still, he hasn’t seen Mandy, so he takes it as a sign that she doesn’t want to see him, until Ian tells him she is on some stupid family vacation with her foster parents. 

Over the last month, Mickey has been settling in alright. He’s constantly walking on eggshells, waiting for the day Laura and her stupid ponytail show up and drag him off to a different city. Foster homes never last long.

Kev is nice, but stupid. Always saying the wrong thing or touching Mickey when he knows the kid will slap him away. He has a big heart and unlimited patience, though, unlike almost every man he’s ever been put in a house with. Veronica is soft but powerful, loyal to her family over anything else. It’s somewhat sweet to witness how she drops everything in order to help, or will bitch anyone out for looking at Mickey wrong. He won’t ever tell them. 

“Hey, Mickey.”

Mickey stands, opening the door to his bedroom. It’s strange, the way these two wait until he allows them into his room. Nobody’s ever given him that kind of privacy before. 

“Hm?”

“So, there’s this event thingy at the bar tonight. You don’t have to come, but I think you’d like it.”

“Sure.”

“Alright, uh, nothing too fancy, but dress shirt and jeans? I can help you pick it out.”

Mickey looks toward his dresser, where he’s gained a considerably large wardrobe over the last few weeks. Veronica is always buying him things, and Kev likes to sneak his old clothes into Mickey’s room when he thinks the kid doesn’t notice. It’s a game they don’t speak of. 

“I’ve got it,” Mickey mumbles. He shifts a little on his feet before adding a small, “thanks.” Just so Kev thinks he’s polite and doesn’t ship him away soon. 

Kev smiles at him, studying his face for a moment. Mickey gives him a glare and steps back. 

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just.. you’ve got some chin pubes up there.”

“The fuck..” Mickey walks to his mirror, leaving the door open. Kev takes that as an invitation and steps in, sitting down on his bed and looking at the kid. 

“It’s fine. Normal. You can, uh.. you can shave, if you want.”

Mickey glances at him through the mirror and hardens his eyes. “Don’t know how.”

Kev brightens up, a dumb grin creeping onto his face. He fiddles with his hands excitedly and clears his throat. “I can show you.”

“Jesus, you wanna go play catch after too?”

“We can. It’s a bit cold, though. And I don’t have a glove for you.”

“I’m fucking kidding. Christ.”

“Well, you don’t have to, but facial hair on kids is normally frowned upon. C’mon, it’ll take 10 minutes.”

“Fine. Just don’t make a big deal out of this.”

Kev leads him to the bathroom, the same stupid smile latched onto his face. Mickey stands, awkwardly waiting for instructions, but Kev ignores him as he digs out a razor and some shaving cream. He hands them off to Mickey and leans back on the sink. 

“Okay, so you gotta put some of that shit all over your face.”

Mickey eyes him warily, spraying some of the cream onto his hands and rubbing it on his face. He goes to apply it on his forehead when Kev shakes his head. 

“No, my fault. Just the area you’re shaving.”

“Oh,” Mickey replies dumbly. He rinses his hands off and grips the razor, thumbing the cap off and holding it up to his jaw before Kev swats at his hand lightly. Mickey glares at him again. 

“Fuck was that for?”

“You can’t just go in any direction. You have to go with the hair. And gently.”

Mickey slowly brings the razor back up to his face, gliding it lightly along his cheekbone. He looks over to Kev for validation, and the man smiles, looking somewhat proud. It’s scary. 

“Good. Now you have to be really careful around your-“

“Fuck!” Mickey exclaims, dropping the razor as blood starts running down his chin. It’s a small mark, but it hurts like a bitch. 

“That’s why I said  _ gently _ . You’re fine.” Kev grabs a piece of toilet paper and sticks it to his wound, leaning back again. “Now start again.”

Slowly but surely, Mickey gets all the hair off his face, stopping every few swipes to get advice from Kev. It’s weird. When he thinks of Terry, this is never something he would ever imagine doing. He doesn’t see Kev as his dad, no matter what his brain tells him, but this feeling of paternalism is something he’s never experienced before. Mickey has heard stories of boys learning to shave from their dads, and all along, that was something he dreamt about. Now that it’s happening, he feels dizzy. 

Mickey sniffs, running his face off and taking a second to wipe his eyes under the water. Kev gently places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. 

“You did good, kid. First time I shaved it looked like I stuck my face in a wood chipper.”

_ You did good, kid.  _

Mickey wipes at his eyes again. He can’t let Kev see him cry over something as girly as a few words, so he leans over the sink for a moment.

“I’m gonna shower.”

“Alright. I think V wants to take you out for lunch or something later.”

“‘Kay.” Mickey takes a deep breath, turning around and sniffing again. Kev gives him a soft look and leaves, closing the door behind him. 

Rule number one of foster care: don’t get too attached. He remembers the home he was in with Liam, a nice couple who obviously favoured Liam. Still, the two of them were kind, checking on Mickey at night and bringing him snacks while he finished homework. It was months ago, before Mickey started jumping from houses every week, so the boy still had some hope. 

He took care of Liam while the parents went to work, feeding the kid and trying to get him to walk or talk or do anything he thought kids do. When Liam got taken back, he was devastated, but not nearly as heartbroken as the couple. They had wanted to adopt him. Without the kid there, they didn’t want much to do with Mickey, treating him like trash before throwing him out of the house. He can’t get too close with any family, no matter how kind they are to him initially. 

Still, a small part of Mickey wants to believe Kev and V are different, that they might actually end up liking him and keeping him longer than a few weeks. But he heard it from Ian already, they are only doing this for the money. 

Mickey steps into the shower, allowing himself a few minutes to think of what could be. After, he shakes the fantasies out of his head, knowing he’s gonna leave in a few weeks and never see these people again. It hurts, but then again, so does leaving every other nice couple. 

He might as well make the best of it 

———

“What do you want for lunch?” Veronica asks, pulling on her coat and handing Mickey his own. Mickey shrugs it on and checks his phone, sighing quietly. 

“Uh, I’m good with whatever.”

_ From: Ian _

heyyy r u coming to kevs party tonight 

_ To: Ian _

yeah but not looking forward to it 

_ From: Ian _

it’ll be fun!!!! kev will sneak us drinks ;)

Mickey pockets his phone, heading out the door and huffing, watching the smoke of his warm breath float through the air. Veronica squints her eyes and looks off to the right, straightening her shoulders and nodding. “There’s a diner a few blocks down. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

They walk, Mickey a considerable length behind her, checking out store windows and fixing his hair in the reflections. He is standing at the window of an old suit store, staring at the tiny wound on his chin from earlier, when he hears Veronica exclaim loudly. 

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole!”

Mickey turns, walking quickly toward Veronica and puffing his chest out. Some sleazy looking man is staring at her with something predatory in his eyes, and Mickey doesn’t know a lot, but he knows he really doesn’t like that look. 

“Maybe if you didn’t walk around looking like a whore, I wouldn’t want to touch you.”

Mickey stands in front of Veronica, staring up at the man. It’s one of the first times in his life he has absolutely hated being short. 

“There a problem?”

“None of your business, short stack.”

“You touch her?” Mickey hardens his glare, shoving a hand down his pocket. The man raises an eyebrow and steps back a little. 

“You wouldn’t?”

“Say you’re sorry, asshole.”

The not-so-gentleman scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Mickey subtly eyes the biceps that he knows could probably crush him. 

“Drop it, Mickey. Let’s go.”

“Listen to your bitch, man.”

Mickey breathes out a laugh. “That’s it.” He throws a punch, hissing in pain as his knuckles connect with the man’s cheekbone. The guy stumbles back before retaliating, hitting Mickey once in the eye and another in the nose before he remembers the placement of his other hand. 

Mickey grabs his knife, flipping it open and holding it up. The man freezes, holding his hands up as Veronica frantically tugs at his arm. 

“Say you’re fucking sorry, dickbreath.” Mickey licks some blood off his lip, holding the knife to the guy’s throat. 

“I’m sorry, Jesus!”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Mickey shoves him, waiting until he runs off before pocketing the knife and wiping at his nose. Veronica stares at him for a moment before blinking. 

“What the hell was that?”

Mickey shuffles a little. “Wasn’t gonna stab him.”

“Mickey, you can’t just do that to people. Lord.” She groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes a minute before looking at Mickey. “Come sit.”

Mickey follows her orders, sitting down on the ledge at some store front. Veronica tilts his head to the side and licks her thumb, wiping some blood away from his cheek, causing Mickey to grimace and pull away. She grabs a pack of tissues from her purse and holds one up to Mickey’s nose, checking it to make sure it’s not broken. It’s silent until she starts cleaning the blood around his face. 

“I don’t need protecting, you know.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I’m sure you don’t like assholes touching you. Maybe now he’ll think before putting those grimy ass paws on a chick.”

Veronica smirks a little. “Well, I don’t want you doing that any more, I can plenty well handle myself, but thanks.”

“Whatever.”

“You act like such a tough guy. I’m sure you’re a big softie on the inside.”

Mickey glares at her. “You’re lucky I don’t hit girls.” He knows his threat isn’t received as intended, probably due to his watering eyes and hunched over posture. Veronica giggles and stands up straight, holding a hand out. Mickey hesitates before taking it, allowing the woman to pull him up and steady him. 

“I’m fine.”

“I know.” She smiles, sighing quietly as Mickey stumbles a little. “Let’s just grab something and take it home, ‘kay?”

Mickey shrugs, looking toward a convenience store. She leads him in, smiling at the man at the register and stopping in her tracks, staring at the red head boy Mickey has been trying to avoid. 

“Ian!”

“Oh, shit. Hi, V!”

Veronica grins, pulling Ian into a hug. He closes his eyes before opening them and looking at Mickey, his eyebrows furrowing in concern at his appearance. 

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Got hurt defending my honour. My knight.”

“Jesus, you’re really making me regret that shit now.” Mickey rolls his eyes, grabbing a chocolate bar and shoving it in his pocket when nobody’s looking. He doesn’t have money to pay for this shit. 

“Are you coming tonight?” Veronica asks Ian, letting Mickey wander off. Mickey grabs a few more items and hides them, feeling the eyes of the cashier following him around. He turns around and raises an eyebrow, the man looking away instantly and pretending to do something with the register. Mickey grabs a Snickers bar and shoves it down his pants, joining his foster mother up front with Ian and shuffling. 

“You feeling okay?” Ian asks, a frown on his face. Mickey rolls his eyes again and looks away. 

“Just fine, twinkletoes.”

“The medical stuff is over there.” Ian points, sending Veronica off and leaning against the counter. “So.”

“What?”

“Did you really pull a knife on some giant dude?”

“You two gossiping about me now?”

“Yup. Tons to talk about.” Ian smiles cheekily. Mickey grunts and sniffs, wiping some of the drying blood off his nose. Ian eyes him warily. “You excited about tonight?”

“Not one bit.”

“It’ll be fun. Promise. Kev throws really good parties.”

“If it’s bad I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“Sure thing, tough guy. Hey, your knuckles are bleeding.”

“Yeah, happens when you punch a dude with a jawline of fuckin’ metal.”

Ian grabs his hand, holding it gently and moving his fingers back and forth. Mickey feels his cheeks heat up and looks around, noticing the cashier staring at him again. Mickey doesn’t bother starting anything and looks back at Ian. 

“You should wrap your knuckles.”

“I’m just fine.”

“Sure.” Ian chuckles, holding onto his hand for another moment before pulling back. Mickey feels coldness seep through his skin at the lack of contact. 

“I grabbed some shit, I’ll make food at home,” Veronica interrupts them, resting her hand on Mickey’s shoulder and smiling at Ian. “I’ll see you tonight kiddo.”

“See you! Kash, give them my discount, will ya?”

“That’s for you, Ian. Not family.”

“I won’t tell Linda.”

“Fine.” The cashier gripes and takes the items from Veronica and types in some numbers, taking her cash and handing her change. Just as they walk out, Mickey looks back and realizes something. 

Kash is wearing Ian’s shirt. 

He can’t think about it too much, because Veronica pulls him out, but the thought burns holes in his brain. 

That’s messed up. 

———

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” Mickey calls, buttoning up the last button on his shirt and tucking it into his jeans. He checks out his wounds, slicking his hair back and applying some deodorant before joining Veronica in the kitchen. She looks him up and down and whistles quietly. 

“You clean up nice.”

“Thanks.” He smiles, tight lipped. Veronica grabs the keys from the rack and heads to the car. They drive down to the bar, joining the large group of people already there, dancing the music and taking shots. 

Mickey sits down at a booth, playing on his phone and wishing he could disappear. It’s been a long day, filled with many emotions he likes to pretend he doesn’t have. He’s frankly exhausted. 

“Mick! Hi!”

Ian slides into the booth across from him, holding a few shot glasses and placing them on the table. Mickey gives him a small smile and sits back, putting his phone away. Ian has some grin on his face as he watches his siblings dance. It’s a nice look on him. 

“Hey, man.”

“You look nice.”

Mickey blushes, like some stupid teenage girl, but knows he can just blame it on the hot environment and dim lighting. He looks around for a minute before leaning forward. 

“So, you and the cashier?”

Ian freezes, his mouth hanging open a little bit. He stutters out an answer, ending with a barely coherent “are you okay with it?”

“Fuck whoever you want. It’s just morally fucking wrong, though.”

Ian furrows his eyebrows. “How?”

“Gallagher, he’s like double your age. He’s an adult. That’s fucked.”

“He loves me.”

“He doesn’t love you, man. He wants someone naive to fuck.”

Ian glares, pouting a little. “You don’t know shit about him. He’s doing nothing wrong.”

“Fine, keep fucking the pedo, I don’t give a shit.” Mickey downs a shot, wincing a little. Ian follows, falling back in the rhythm of the party and nodding along to the music. He stands, holding a hand out to Mickey, the older boy staring at it for a second before fixing his glance on Ian. 

“Want to dance?”

“Fuck no.”

Ian frowns, moving away and dancing with Debbie instead. Mickey sits for a minute, musters up the courage, then takes another shot and stands, grabbing Fiona and starting to dance with her. He doesn’t want to do it as a retaliation, though he appreciates the look Ian sends his way as Fiona giggles and drunkenly stumbles along with him to the beat. He feels the tension seep from his shoulders as he’s passed around from woman to woman, eventually landing on Ian and shrugging. 

Ian grins and grabs his hands, jumping around the bar as the song picks up. Mickey tries to keep a straight face, but even with the ache in his skin and the headache creeping through his skull, he can’t keep the smile off his face. Maybe it’s the environment, maybe it’s Ian; he can’t tell, and honestly, it’s better that way. 

After a few minutes of dancing with Ian, the two slide back into the booth, laughing and sweating as they try to catch their breath. They take a few more shots and make conversation, laughing about stupid shit and singing along to the songs playing. It’s going good, Mickey decides. 

The door of the bar swings open just as the music changes. A loud, scruffy voice rings out into the bar. 

“I’m a free man!”

Mickey freezes, instantly recognizing the voice. He instinctively quiets down and leans into himself. Ian glances at him with concern before looking over to Kev, the man staring at the door. He pauses the music, the whole room going quiet in anticipation. 

“Well, play the fucking music!”

“Terry, man, you know you can’t be in here,” Kev speaks, exasperation in his voice. Mickey closes his eyes and tightens his hands into fists. 

“Like fuck I can’t. Come on!”

Mickey slowly turns his head, looking toward the bathroom. If he could just get there, he could crawl out a window and make a run for it. He slowly stands, hoping to stay unseen, before he turns too quick and makes eye contact with Terry. 

“Is that..”

“Ah, shit.” 

Terry automatically walks forward, his eyes hard with hatred. Mickey doesn’t have time to move away before his father grabs a bottle from the table and chucks it toward him, landing on his foot. Mickey lets out a yell and flinches, watching as all the men in the bar make a move to help, but Mickey sprints to the door, his leg almost dragging behind him. He moves on autopilot. 

“Come back here, you fucking cocksucker!”

Mickey opens the door, running out. He runs until his lungs burn and he can’t recognize where he is, then drops to the ground and tries to catch his breath, holding his bloody foot. His brain is filling with flashbacks of his father, just one second of seeing his face enough to bring back everything he’s tried to forget, and Mickey feels like he’s drowning. He closes his eyes and leans back against a tree, allowing his breath to even out. 

He’s passed out before he hears his phone ring. 

——-

“Have you heard anything from him?”

“No, Ian. Not since the last time you asked.”

Ian groans, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes and taking a sip of coffee. The Gallagher’s + Kev and V are seated around their table, the countdown to calling the police getting lower and lower. It’s only been about 10 hours, but with no contact from Mickey, they’re all going a little insane. 

“He couldn’t have gone far. He’s got a bad foot.”

“He probably didn’t even feel his foot. The adrenaline can kick in and boom. He’s in Canada.” Kev stares down at his bruised fists. He only had a couple seconds on top of Terry before he was pulled off, but by god, it was the most satisfactory seconds he’s ever witnessed. 

“He’s not in Canada, Kev. He doesn’t even have a passport.”

Ian sends another text, bouncing his leg nervously. Lip slaps his thigh. “Calm the fuck down.”

“What if he’s hurt?”

“He is hurt. Which means we can find him.” Fiona grabs her keys. “Okay, uh.. Ian, take Liam and go with Kev and V. The rest of you, you come with me. Split up and drive everywhere.”

Ian slides into the backseat of Kev’s truck, staring out the window and making the couple stop every time he sees a leg sticking out of an alley. Ian dials his number again, and lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he hears the line connect. 

“Mickey? Mick, are you there?”

A groan is heard on the other line. 

“I need you to tell me where you are.”

“I dunno.”

“Then tell me what’s around you.”

Mickey squints, looking around the scenery. “Trees.”

“Anything else? Like.. statues or anything?”

“I’ll just send my location.”

“Alright. Here, V.” Ian passes the phone to Veronica, calming down a bit. 

“Mickey? Oh, honey. We’re coming. It’s gonna be fine.”

They find Mickey in a park, the boy pressed up against a tree and unable to walk. Kev goes to pick him up, but Mickey flinches violently and lets out something close to a whimper. Veronica pushes Kev away and wraps her arm around Mickey’s torso, helping him up and into the car. The boy is on edge, looking around frantically as if he’s gonna find his father, hungry for blood and filled with rage. It breaks Ian’s heart. 

“Hey, Mick. It’s fine.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey mutters, closing his eyes and pressing himself as far as he can go against the car door. Veronica reaches a hand back and grips his, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. 

Kev and V drop Ian and Liam off at home, Mickey refusing to look at Kev the whole time. Veronica spends over an hour picking all the glass out of his foot and trying to calm the kid down. 

“Mickey, why did you run?”

“Don’t- he’ll kill me.”

“He’s not gonna kill you, baby. He tried to hit some of the guys at the bar, threw himself back in the slammer. He’s not here anymore.”

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers shaking. Every time he thinks he’s safe from Terry, the man shows up again, whether it’s in flashbacks or real life, but both are awful. Veronica moves next to him on the couch, pulling him into a tight hug and running her slender fingers through his hair. 

“You’re safe here. We’ve got you.”

“‘M sorry.” Mickey sniffs, tears coming to his eyes. Veronica turns and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“Don’t be sorry. Just- don’t run like that. We were terrified.”

“You’re just gonna send me away again,” Mickey mumbles into her collarbone, exhaustion and panic pulsing through his nerves. He’s always out of it after episodes like this, but this one is hard. 

“No, we aren't. Not anytime soon.”

Mickey’s read his file before. He knows there’s all the dirty info about his childhood. His mother, how she was killed when he was just a child, plus a brief description of all the abuse he went through from his father. Though it’s well written, sure, it barely covers the surface. Kev and Veronica have read it, making themselves familiar in things they had a feeling Mickey wouldn’t tell them. Like the abuse, or the PTSD he got diagnosed with at 13. They understand why he acts like this, like the world is out to get him and everyone wants to destroy him. 

Still, as the kid falls asleep in Veronica’s arms, looking so hurt and scared and young, the two make an agreement then and there they are going to do everything to protect him from the world. 

God knows someone has to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck terry milkovich that’s all i gotta say


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for ptsd flashbacks, grooming, heavy mentions of (canon) sexual assault, and the regular violence.

The recovery following the run in with Terry is not linear. Some days Mickey’s fine, talkative and helping out around the house, and other days he hides in bed and refuses to open any windows or leave the house, terrified his dad is gonna find him. It’s after a week playing this game of “is Mickey gonna be a functioning member of society today” that Kev and Veronica decide to talk with him. 

“Mickey?”

Veronica takes a breath, opening the door. She doesn’t like having to barge in, but sometimes, she needs to reassure herself the kid is still breathing. Kev has been horrified. Mickey doesn’t even look at him, doing anything he can to avoid the man throughout his day. It’s getting frustrating, though he knows why. 

The two sit down on Mickey’s bed, Kev placing a feather light hand on his back and rubbing up and down. Mickey turns and slowly sits up, leaning back against the headboard and blinking a little when Veronica turns his lamp on. He looks like shit. 

“Hey, Mick.”

“Hm.”

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

Veronica sighs, resting her fingers on Mickey’s leg and looking up at the boy. “You should talk to someone, Mickey. Doesn’t have to be us. But we’re worried.”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone.” Mickey rolls his eyes. 

“Mick..” Kev frowns, looking at the kid with pity. “Just- is there anything we can do to help?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Kev’s insurance covers therapy. Maybe we could sign you up for a few sessions-“

“I’m not going to fucking therapy. Milkovich’s don’t do therapy.”

Kev is about to protest again, when Mickey’s phone rings. He grabs it off the nightstand and hands it to Mickey, grabbing Veronica’s hand and pulling her out of the room. 

“I think it’s more than what he’s telling us.”

“He’s not telling us anything, Kev, that’s the problem.”

“Well, we just need to grill him. Interrogation style, y’know? Strap him down to a chair with the light in his eyes-“

“We are not interrogating our kid.”

Kev stops, a small smile tugging on his lips. Veronica paces around for a few seconds before realizing her husband is staring, and turns, a scowl on her face. 

“The hell are you looking at?”

“Our kid?”

She blushes a little and shrugs. “He might not have been a week ago, but I swear to god, if anyone ever lays a hand on him I’ll kill them. I will.”

Kev pulls Veronica into a hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “He is our kid, huh.” It’s quiet for a couple beats when he speaks again. “I feel useless. We don’t even know half of what he’s been through. I just want to help.”

“Well, interrogating him won’t help. I think we should get him in the therapy, though.”

The door opens, Mickey dressed in an old tattered shirt. “Not going to fucking therapy. End of conversation.”

“Where are you going?”

Mickey walks into the bathroom, splashing some water on his face. “Lip needs my help with something.”

“Alright, do you need a ride?” Kev asks, trying to hide his excitement. He would do a backflip if he could, knowing the kid hasn’t seen sunlight in many days, and hoping this is an opportunity for growth. Then again, it’s Mickey, so growth is probably off the table. 

“No. Bye.” Mickey walks downstairs, grabbing his coat and walking out the door. 

“Well, that’s a good sign, I guess.”

——-

“Jesus, when’s the last time you slept, man?”

Mickey scowls, grabbing a cigarette from Lip and letting him light it. He holds it between his fingers for a second before bringing it to his lips, inhaling and feeling nothing but relief. Kev doesn’t let him smoke anymore. 

“Seriously, you good?”

“Perfect. What the fuck did you call me for?”

“That can wait, dude, you look like shit.”

Mickey glares at him, starting to walk forward. Lip follows him with a bit of urgency in his steps. 

“If I wanted to talk about my fucking problems like a girl, I would stay with helicopter parents over there.” Mickey nods toward his house, slowing down his pace to allow Lip to walk next to him. 

“Just saying.”

“Well don’t.” Mickey takes another puff of the cig, holding it until his lungs hurt and then breathing out. He looks toward Lip as they walk, a frown coming onto his face. “What’s up with you?”

“God, too much.”

“Shoot.”

Lip looks down at his hands, dropping the burnt out cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it. “Fiona thinks we might lose the house.”

“The fuck? How?”

“Turns out when they put someone’s name on the lease, the house belongs to them.”

“Who?”

“My uncle.”

“Well, he’s family, he won’t take the house.”

“You don’t know him. He said he wants to take it. We don’t have the money to keep it.”

Mickey hums a little. “Fuck are you gonna do about it?”

“I dunno. Wait it out I guess.” Lip rubs his palms on his jeans. “Plus, Ian’s got some shit going on.”

Mickey hates the spike of concern that hits him in the gut. “Is he good?”

“I think. He thinks he knows everything, y’know? It’s hard. Trying to talk to him, I mean. He has a thing with a… much older person.”

Mickey eyes him for a second, trying to figure out how to approach the topic. “The cashier?”

Lip stops, turning to look at him. “You know?”

“Yeah. Kinda fuckin’ obvious.”

Lip sighs, relieved at the fact that he’s not carrying the secret by himself. “It’s messed up, right?”

“If red riding hood were a girl, that pedo would be getting his ass handed to him,” Mickey mumbles, dropping his cigarette. 

Lip suddenly grins, the kind that only means mischief. “Wanna kick his ass?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “I’m down, but won’t red be pissed?”

“He’ll thank us later. It’s not okay. Kash is like 40. It’s illegal in every way.” Lip looks to the right, pointing at the convenience store. “Plus, looks like you might need to take some of that angst out.”

“Fuck you.”

-

It might be pure luck, or the fact that Lip knows Ian’s schedule, but Kash is alone when they get to the store. 

“Hey, Lip, is Ian coming in tonight?”

Mickey laughs humourlessly. “Wouldn’t you like to know, kid fucker.”

Kash freezes, his eyes darting from the boys to the drawer on his left. Mickey raises an eyebrow and leans against the counter. Lip clears his throat. 

“Y’know, I thought you would be aware of the strict ‘no pedophile’ rule in this neighbourhood.”

“What Ian and I have is special.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. He’s a kid.” Mickey glares. Kash stands, obviously going to make a run, before Mickey darts over and grabs him by the neck, slamming his face down onto the counter. “Now here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna break up whatever the fuck kind of statutory shit you’ve got going on, and if you say a word to him about this, we’ll go right to the cops. Understand?”

“Eat shit, Milkovich.”

“Wrong answer.” Mickey grips his neck and drags him up, only to hit his face in again. Lip goes to the other end of the man and pushes him onto the ground, giving him a kick to the chest. 

The two end up beating the shit out of Kash, Mickey taking an extra moment when the man is half unconscious and telling him if he were ever to touch a kid again, he would call his brothers to kill him and ditch the body. Aside from the torn knuckles and faint reminder of why he was so angry in the first place, Mickey feels great for the first time in a week. 

Mickey admires their work, then walks over to the counter and grabs a few things, opening one of the drawers. His eyes widen as he looks down at the gun, but he just pockets it and doesn’t mention it to Lip. The boy grabs his arm, whispering something about the cops and pulling Mickey away while the two laugh like maniacs. They make it a couple blocks before they hear sirens, and start sprinting toward Mickey’s house, opening the door and running through. They run past Kev and V and into his room, collapsing on the bed. 

“Holy fuck, man. I haven’t been chased like that in months.”

“I’ve never been chased like that.” Lip groans, holding his rib cage. They take a few minutes to calm down, before Mickey catches Lip’s eyes and they both break out into laughter again. 

“Y’know, I don’t get it.” Lip speaks, his breath evening out. 

“Don’t get what?”

“Like, being gay, I guess. I mean, how does Ian even know? He’s never even kissed a girl.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Well I’m sure you know you’re straight even if you’ve never kissed a guy.”

Lip shrugs. “I’m open to anything.”

“Jesus, why are we even talking about this?”

“I’m just saying,” Lip sits up, face to face with Mickey. “Ian has never once even tried anything with a girl. How can he be 100% sure he’s gay? Like, what if I’m gay? Oh god, am I gay-“

Mickey thinks his ears are gonna explode, so he reaches forward and grabs Lip’s face, pulling him in and kissing him. It’s nothing special, a closed mouth kiss that he’s done a million times, but at least it shuts him up. Lip stares at him once he’s pulled away, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. 

“There, still think you’re gay?” Mickey mutters, sitting back and grunting a little. Lip contemplates it for a second before shaking his head. 

“That didn’t feel right.” He wipes at his mouth and frowns a little. “Might just be because you’re ugly as hell.”

“Oh, fuck off, Gallagher.”

——-

“Hey, Mick. V and I are gonna go out for the night, okay? You’re good to make food for yourself?”

“Not a fucking child. Yes.”

“How do I look?”

Mickey glaces at him, raising an eyebrow. “Am I one of your girlfriends? Fuck does it matter?”

“C’mon, man. You’re like the only dude around here except Lip who talks to me. Honest opinion only.”

Mickey rolls his eyes and looks Kev up and down, shrugging. “Same as usual.”

“Fuck.”

Veronica rushes in, grabbing her purse off the wall and smiling at Kev. “You look handsome, babe. Don’t listen to the dirty white boy on our couch.”

“I’ll burn the house down,” Mickey threatens, returning his attention to the TV. Veronica chuckles and leans over the couch, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. Mickey grumbles when he feels the lipstick on his skin. 

“Be good, call if you need us, yadda yadda ya.” She ruffles his hair and moves away, grabbing Kev’s arm and dragging him out. 

Mickey has never been more content to be by himself. His favourite shows from childhood are rerunning, he knows he can break into Kev’s playboys tonight, and it’s just the right amount of cold in the house which will cause an amazing night of sleep. It’s perfect. 

Until the door slams open, and there stands a crazed Fiona holding Liam. “V?”

“Ever heard of knocking?” Mickey turns. Fiona jumps, groaning a little. 

“Shit. Date night?”

“Yeah.”

Fiona adjusts Liam on her hip and holds her fingers to her forehead. She stares around the house for a second. “Hey, you wanna make $20?”

“Not a prostitute. Plus, you’re a bit old for me. Not that you’re not hot.”

Fiona rolls her eyes. “Watch Liam?”

Mickey sighs quietly. He nods, pausing the TV and standing. Fiona grabs a 20 from her pocket and hands it to Mickey, sliding him the kid. She runs off to the bathroom, leaving her purse, so Mickey thinks it over before placing the bill back in the bag, bringing Liam with him to the couch. 

“Meemy!”

“Hey, bud.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Fiona grabs her bag and leaves, Mickey not bothering to ask why she’s in such a rush. If there’s one thing he’s learned about the Gallagher’s, and Fiona in particular, they are always doing something. It must be exhausting. 

Liam babbles excitedly as the cartoons come back on the TV, Mickey balancing the boy on his knee and shaking it, smirking a little as the kid giggles. They sit for a while, until Mickey’s stomach rumbles. 

“You hungry, little man?”

Liam furrows his eyebrows and sticks his fingers in his mouth. Mickey adjusts a little and stands, holding the kid with one hand and taking them to the kitchen. 

“What’cha in the mood for tonight? How about…” Mickey opens the fridge, finding only a bottle of lube and a carton of milk, along with multiple items he knows V would be able to muster up into dinner, but he is no such chef. He moves onto the pantry. “Cheerios?”

Liam squeals. Mickey takes it as a yes. He places Liam on the counter, grabbing a couple bowls and filling it with cereal. He stops every few seconds, tickling Liam’s foot or making a stupid face at him. There’s nobody around to act tough for, so he’s happy to retreat back into old habits, enjoying the company of the toddler. 

“Bon appetit, kid.”

Liam sticks his hands in his bowl, grabbing the dry cereal and shoving it in his mouth. Mickey grabs milk and pours it in his own, leaning across the counter next to Liam and eating. 

“Meemy.”

“What’s up?”

Liam sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth, grabbing a handful of cereal and throwing it in the direction of Mickey. The older boy scoffs. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now.” 

He grabs Liam, holding him sideways and spinning around. The kid screeches, laughing and babbling, and Mickey finds himself laughing as well. The kid grips onto his shirt once they’ve stopped spinning and cuddles into Mickey’s chest, rubbing his cheek against his shirt. 

“Let’s go sit, buddy.” 

They watch TV for a while longer, but Mickey hear’s Liam’s voice even out and the kid goes limp on top of him. Mickey rubs his hand up and down his back and brings him to Kev and V’s room, laying him down. He surrounds Liam with blankets and rubs his thumb over the boy’s cheek, smiling a little. 

“Night, kiddo.”

Mickey checks the time and sees it’s well past 11, so he decides to head to bed soon, but not before going to the kitchen to clean up the mess of cereal and spilled milk. He’s halfway through cleaning when the front door slams open, causing him to jump and almost drop the bowl in his hand, turning and making eye contact with Ian. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, hasn’t your family ever heard of fucking knocking?”

“I want the gun, Mickey.”

“Quiet. Liam’s sleeping.”

Ian’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Why do you have- nevermind. I know you took it. I need it back. Now.”

“What gun, Gallagher?” Mickey exhales, placing the bowl in the dishwasher. He flinches when Ian grabs him by the arms and shoves him against the wall next to the counter. 

“Don’t play dumb. You took it from Kash.”

“That fuckhead snitched?” 

Ian glares. “Watch your fucking mouth. He has enough evidence to get you locked up for good.”

“Evidence?”

“Cameras, Mickey. All over the store.”

Mickey groans a little. He goes to move but Ian tightens his grip on his wrists. Mickey swallows thickly and looks up at Ian, trying to keep his composure straight. 

“Give me the gun.”

“Calm your tits.” Mickey brings his leg up and knees him in the stomach, pushing Ian back. When the boy tries to grab at him again, Mickey raises his hands in surrender, almost daring him to make a move. “It’s in my room.”

Ian follows him, still glaring, and closes the door once they’re in his room. Mickey pauses at his nightstand and when he feels Ian’s presence behind him, he turns and shoves him away quickly, not ready to give up without a fight. 

Ian blinks, fixing him with a look of betrayal, before stepping closer and throwing a punch, hitting Mickey right in the gut. Mickey groans and grabs him by the shirt, hauling him into the bed, but Ian gets the upper hand and lands on top of him. Mickey remembers all the times he was put in this position by his father and flips them, thankful for Ian’s lightness. He sits on Ian’s chest and grabs his wrists so the boy can’t move, grinning cockily down at him. 

All of a sudden, the hatred in Ian’s eyes is replaced with something different, something deeper. They make eye contact, and Mickey sits back a little, his eyes widening. The boy under him is hard. Before he can react in the normal way, ignore it or kick Ian out of the house, he’s stripping his shirt off, the two of them getting undressed as quick as possible. Ian goes to kiss him, but Mickey moves away, so the redhead latches onto his neck instead. 

Time blurs together until they are both asleep, naked and exhausted, both of them forgetting what the issue was to begin with. 

-

Mickey wakes up with his face pressed against someone’s skin. He automatically nuzzles closer, until he realizes there is somebody else in his bed, and sits up quickly, dizziness rushing through his head. He checks the clock, 2:30 am, and hears loud knocking at the front door. 

“Shit. Gallagher.” Mickey shoves Ian, rubbing his eyes. Ian hums, turning and pressing his cheek onto Mickey’s naked torso. The shorter boy shoves him harder, standing up and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. 

“‘time is it?”

Mickey doesn’t allow himself to visibly react to Ian’s sleepy voice. He grabs the boy’s jeans and throws them at him. 

“Time for you to get the fuck out.”

“Jus- lemme stay.”

“Can’t. Someone’s here.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Ian pulls the blanket higher, curling up into a ball. Mickey throws his hands out in exasperation and grabs the first shirt he sees, pulling it on as the knocking on the door gets louder. Fiona stands outside, shivering, so Mickey opens the door and lets her in. 

“Hey, did I wake you?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, sorry. I can take Liam now. Kev and V crashed at my place.”

Mickey runs a hand through his messy hair and walks to the bedroom, carefully lifting the sleeping kid up. He brings him out to Fiona and hands him off, Liam whining in his sleep. 

“Thanks, kid. Means a lot.” Fiona smiles gently. Just once, Mickey wishes he could find her attractive, because relatively speaking, she’s perfect in every physical way. But he can’t, so some fucked up part in his brain decides to settle for her younger brother. 

“Yep. Night.” Mickey goes to close the door, but Fiona stops him. 

“Is that Ian’s shirt?”

Mickey freezes, too exhausted to think of a proper excuse, so he shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh. Looks like it. Goodnight, Mickey. Come over for breakfast tomorrow, would ya?”

He nods, closing the door and going back to his room. Ian is still asleep, and he doesn’t really have the energy to attempt to get him out again, so Mickey stretches and crawls back into bed with him, pushing Ian’s arm off him when the taller boy attempts to cuddle him. 

He just needs to pretend nothing happened, and maybe, just maybe, Ian will forget too. 

——-

“Did you get attacked by fucking leeches?”

Veronica grabs the neckline of his shirt, yanking it down and examining the array of hickies on his neck and chest. Kev smirks and silently raises a hand, Mickey accepting the high five, then going still again as Veronica glares at him. 

“We leave for one night and you bring some chick home.”

Mickey looks toward the Gallagher kitchen, where Ian is smirking into his coffee. He looks at Lip, who is currently eyeing both of them, before the realization hits him. He automatically grabs Ian and drags him outside, which does not do good things for Mickey’s heart. He knows, and he’s gonna tell everyone, and- 

Veronica steps back. “Were you safe?”

“Fuck does that mean?”

“Condoms. Is she on the pill?”

“I don’t- can we stop talking about this?”

Kev clears his throat. “If you can’t talk about sex, Mickey, you can’t be having it.”

“Jesus.” 

“Okay, that’s it, we’re having the talk.” Veronica walks to the kitchen, whispering something to Fiona, then kisses her cheek and grabs Kev’s hand, leading them back to their own house. Mickey makes eye contact with Ian as he’s escorted out, but immediately looks away once the boy gives him an apologetic stare. Veronica sits him down on the couch once they arrive back. 

“I don’t need to-“

“Zip it.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Now listen. This is a very sex positive household. We are never gonna shame you for having sex, but Mickey, you have to do it responsibly.”

“Can we  _ please  _ drop it.” Mickey digs his face in his hands. Kev knocks his knee into Mickey’s with a frown on his face. 

“Look, kid. I get it. This is uncomfortable. But I’m assuming nobody’s ever had this conversation with you.”

“I’ve had sex before.”

“But has it been done safely?”

“How do you fuck someone safely?”

“Protection. Consent. All of that.”

Mickey thinks back to when he was 13, when he was back with his father and the man found his porn collection and beat him until he couldn’t see straight, then hired a woman to take advantage of him until she ‘fucked the gay out of him’. It was enough to scare him away from sex for 3 years, and now, well…

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Mickey. You don’t understand.” Kev leans forward. “You could’ve gotten someone pregnant. Did you use a condom last night?”

“We didn’t even have sex!” Mickey decides. He needs to leave before he gets even more frustrated and asks Kev how exactly he can knock a girl up if he’s taking it up the ass. 

“Mickey..”

“She- she had to leave. Before, I mean. We fooled around but nothing fucking happened, and I didn’t get anyone pregnant.”

Veronica sighs in relief, going to the kitchen to get some water. Kev places a hand on Mickey’s knee. 

“Look, I’m glad to hear you didn't, but you still need to be protected for when you do. I’ll buy you some condoms, okay? You can just take em wherever you go.”

“Can I leave now?”

“Sure.” Kev smiles a little. “And kid?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t be afraid to talk to us, okay?”

“Whatever.”

——-

The first time Mickey sees Mandy, it’s like the world stops spinning and everything is pure and upright again. He’s on his way out of math, having earned an extra week of detention for falling asleep in class, but hey, at least he didn’t have to hear about fucking polynomials. She’s blonde now, less twig like, and dressed in a pair of jeans and a large hoodie. Mickey freezes. 

“Mick?”

“Shit, Mandy…”

Mandy runs toward him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He returns the gesture, hugging her waist, holding her close. 

“Holy shit.”

She pulls back, cupping his face gently. Mickey gives her a smile. 

“You look good, Mick. Healthy.”

“You look less like a slut.”

She slaps his arm, shaking her head. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Around.”

Mandy frowns. “You heard about dad? I think that’s a new record.”

Mickey nods. He looks at the clock and steps back a bit. “Wanna skip? We can, uh, catch up.”

They end up walking to a diner, Mickey finding a couple bills Kev gave him and ordering a plate of nachos to split. Mandy sits across from him and sips on a water, looking like she has a million things she wants to say. 

“So.”

“Where have you been staying?” She asks, resting her elbows on the table. Mickey grabs a chip from the plate and chews on it, looking outside. 

“Uh, with a nice couple. Few blocks from our old house.”

“That’s awesome.”

“How about you? I heard you went on some boujee ass vacation, eh?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Gallagher’s. They’re my neighbours.”

“No shit, you’re with Kev and Veronica? They’re great people.”

“Yeah. They’re nice.”

Mandy digs into the nachos as well, humming. “Yeah, my family is awesome, man. It’s such a weird upgrade. Went from having Terry as my father to having two dads.”

“You got a gay couple?”

“Yeah.” Mandy smiles. “They want to adopt me.”

Mickey tries to fight the jealousy blooming in his stomach. “That’s amazing, Mands.”

“I love them a lot. Not a lot of people want to adopt kids our age.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Mickey can’t explain the shift in the environment. It’s awkward, the way Mandy openly talks about her new ‘family’, one that doesn’t include Mickey. She has a new life now, and whether he likes it or not, there’s nothing he can do about it but pretend not to be envious. 

They eat in silence, Mandy bringing up questions she has or points she can make about her new home, but for the most part, Mickey stays quiet. It’s too new. He loves his brothers, yeah, but he knows if he were to never see them again, he would be able to survive. Every day he doesn’t see Mandy is another day of fear, worried about his baby sister. 

He remembers flashes of his childhood. Times when Terry would break into the house and scream at Mandy so hard she went to the only person she could think of, landing in Mickey’s room. He would lock the door and hold her close, keeping his hands over her ears and telling her stories. He loves her with his whole heart, and it’s terrifying to see her move on and be herself. 

She notices, because of course she does. If there is anyone in the world who can break through the walls Mickey puts up, it’s her. Mandy has always had that skill. 

“Mick?”

“Hm?”

“You know you’ll always be my brother, right? No matter what.”

“Yeah, kid. I know.” Mickey taps her foot under the table. He wants to tell her everything. Tell her he would take a bullet for her, that the world revolves around her in his eyes, that he’s never been more lost than when she’s not around. That he wishes he could’ve been a better brother, wishes he could go back in time and protect her from everything he blew off. 

The relationships she’s survived, coming to Mickey with bruises on her arms that he never noticed before. The times Terry would get so drunk he wouldn’t recognize her as his own daughter, and when Mickey had to be the one to take her to get her first abortion at 12. He wants to lock the world outside their door, just like how he used to, and be safe with his sister. He wants to tell her he’s sorry, but the words won’t come. Mandy rests her hand over his on the table. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too, shithead. Eat your nachos.”

It’s good enough for them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can we talk abt how i struggle to write 1000 words for school but i wrote like 14 pages for this chapter? also, real talk, i'm conflicted about what i write here. i feel a little uncomfy writing excplicit scenes, because though i am also a minor, it feels weird to write when they're both teenagers. i apologize for that but for rn i think i will just skip the actual excplicit stuff. ALSO THIS IS IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM A SHIP PIECE BETWEEN LIP AND MICKEY. they have a bromance and I will take that to my grave. thanks for reading <333


	4. Chapter Four: Merry Christmas From the Ball’s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to post something short and sweet for christmas :)

_ From: Kev _

Hey mick, when you come home today we r gonna do the tree. Make sure to get a list for santa. xoxo

Mickey scowls down at his phone, holding it next to his knee as the teacher drawls on about some US president. Truth is, he hasn’t heard a word out of this fuckers mouth since the class started, but he can’t deal with detention again, so he sticks to nodding occasionally and pretending to write things down. He can get his notes from the nerd who sits across from him anyway. 

_ To: Kev _

??????

_ From: Kev _

Xmas is in 2 weeks. Hav some spirit ;)

_ To: Kev _

fuck christmas 

The response is immediate. 

_ From: Kev _

Wtf

Santa is listening man 

_ To: Kev _

condoms n alc r all i need 

_ From: Kev _

God help your generation

Mickey pockets his phone, returning his dwindling attention to his balding teacher. This day couldn’t go by any slower. 

-

True to Kev’s word, there is a bare tree resting in their living room once he arrives home. Mickey drops his backpack on the ground and takes his coat off, looking at the boxes of decorations surrounding the ground and wondering, ‘how the hell did my life come to this?”

“Hey, hon,” Veronica greets him with a kiss on the cheek. Mickey’s learned that acting disgusted by her kisses don’t work on her, so he barely reacts anymore. “Kev! Get my CD’s! How was school?” She directs her attention to Mickey after yelling at her husband, a smile on her face. 

“Uh. Good.”

“That’s good. You want some hot chocolate?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “It spiked?”

“No. Good try.”

“Then no. I’ll just be in my room.” Mickey goes to walk off, but Veronica grabs his arm, pulling him back. 

“Uh, no you don’t. You’re gonna decorate with us!” She grins, all cheerful like. It makes Mickey’s teeth hurt. 

“I don’t do Christmas.”

“Well that’s too damn bad. Go on, get that roll of lights, I can’t do the whole tree by myself.” She places her hands on her hips. “Kev! How long does it take to get a fucking box?”

“Maybe if we cleaned the basement every once in a while, I would get your stupid box quicker.” Kev appears, dropping the hopefully last box on the ground and exhaling heavily. Mickey kicks it gently, jumping out of his skin when a loud laugh is heard from inside. 

“What the fuck is that?”

Veronica opens the box, grabbing the opposing item and turning it over, flipping a switch on the back. The item just so happens to be a miniature Santa figure. 

“Motion sensor.”

“That’s fucking creepy.”

Veronica places it on a counter, walking over to the two boys and looking around. “So, Mickey and I can be on the tree. Kev, start hanging up the paintings.” She clasps her hands today and smiles. “Let’s make Christmas our bitch.”

They end up taking the rest of the night to decorate, decking out the tree with as many ornaments as they can fit, including a new one Kev gave to him all wrapped up which read ‘baby’s first Christmas’. Mickey bit back the insult at the tip of his tongue and hung it up in the very back, out of view by everyone. The house looked festive as fuck, and honestly, Mickey was digging it. 

“How did you celebrate Christmas in your other homes?” Veronica asks, fluffing out a branch. Mickey shifts a little and fiddles with the festive scarf that somehow ended up around his neck. 

“Uh, never did.”

Kev turns, his eyebrows knitted together. “You never celebrated Christmas?”

Mickey shrugs. “Most ‘a the families wanted the fostering money  _ for  _ Christmas, an’ they didn’t wanna spend any on me, so once I wasn’t much help they sent me back. Not much to do in a group home with 50 other boys.”

“What about before that?”

“Nothing.” The two look at him with such pity it makes Mickey want to run away. Instead he clears his throat and gives them a weak smile. “I’m gonna go to bed now, I think. Got a test tomorrow.”

“You don’t want dinner?”

“I’m good. Had a big lunch. Uh, goodnight.” He stands, walking off quickly to his bedroom and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t particularly enjoy talking about his previous homes, especially the ones everyone’s always dying to know the details about, and honestly, it exhausts him. 

Back in the living room, Veronica stares at Kev with a frown on her face, crossing her arms and shaking her head. 

“That kid has had it rough.”

“Who the fuck doesn’t celebrate Christmas?”

“Jewish people.”

“I mean- well, yeah, but- who would send a kid back to spend Christmas alone?” Kev asks, disbelief in his voice. He knows the world is cruel sometimes, but how the hell could you kick a kid out at Christmas, especially one like Mickey? 

“I dunno, Kev. It’s awful.” She sighs. 

“We gotta make it up to him. Like- big.”

Veronica smiles. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“I’ve never felt this way about a kid before. Like- I love the Gallagher’s, but Mickey feels like.. ours. Is that weird?”

“No. I feel the same.”

Kev walks over to her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “Then let’s give him a good Christmas, hey?”

Veronica presses her cheek into Kev’s chest. “Yeah. Let’s do some good for our kid.”

-

“Mickey.”

A groan escapes his lips as he’s poked, swatting at the hand and pulling his blanket over his face. He squeezes his eyes shut before a voice disturbs his sleep yet again. 

“Miiiiiiiiickeyyyy.”

“‘The fuck do you want?” Mickey mumbles, voice thick with sleep. He coughs once before opening his eyes, flinching when the light is switched on to his room. Veronica and Kev stand in front of him, dressed and ready for the day, and when Mickey looks over at his clock and sees it’s before 8, he turns back around and digs his face in the pillow. 

“Mick, you gotta get up.”

“Fire?”

“No.” Kev shakes him. “Santa came.”

“Fuckin- huh?” He turns and sits up. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m serious. Santa came. Come look under the tree.”

“Jesus Christ, ain’t I a bit old for this shit?”

Veronica frowns, poking at his leg. “Work with us here.”

“Fine, hope the fat fuck left me some parents who let me sleep.” Mickey rubs at his eyes. Kev whips his head over to stare at his wife, the use of ‘parents’ not slipping his mind. He decides not to mention it to the sleepy kid and digs through his dresser, finding him some clothes to wear. 

Mickey exits his room, fully dressed, a minute later, walking right into the bathroom. Veronica elbows Kev in the stomach, her jaw dropped. 

“He called us his parents.”

“Does it count if he said it like that?”

“Yes. I’m taking it.” She grins, sighing happily when Kev wraps an arm around her shoulders. Mickey leaves the bathroom and blinks at them, his face the picture of disappointment. 

“So, what now? I go pretend to believe in some geriatric jolly man?”

“Yes, please.”

“Fine. Jesus.”

They go downstairs, all three of them jumping when the motion sensor Santa bitch laughs viciously at them. They sit down in the living room, Mickey almost starting a scene when Veronica pulls out a camera and tells him to sit in front of the tree. There are a handful of badly wrapped presents underneath, and Mickey wants nothing to do with any of them, but Kev directs him on which ones to open first. 

He gets a few cool things. New phone case, some clothes, and a few playboys. Veronica lowers her cameras when he opens that one, slapping Kev across the arm and staring disdainfully at the magazines. 

“You got him porn?”

“I dunno. Thought he would like it.”

“Christ, Kev.” She rolls her eyes before pointing at the last gift, a small box shaped present. “Open it.” She raises her camera again, her finger hovering over the button, and Mickey really tries to keep his patience as he rips the wrapping paper off. To his surprise, it is a box. He barely rolls his eyes before Kev is telling him to look inside. 

He opens the box, his eyes going wide for a second before he can mask his emotions. It’s an expensive looking ring, one that would surely fuck someone’s face up, and it’s probably worth more than Mickey is. 

“Wow. Uh- thanks, guys. You really didn’t have to do anything for me.”

“Sure we did. It’s Christmas.” Kev smiles. Mickey stands and walks to Veronica, going to maybe pat her shoulder and go back to his room, but she grabs him and hugs him tightly, rubbing her hand up and down his back. It takes a moment before Kev joins their hug, trapping Mickey in between the two. 

He’s never really enjoyed hugs. Always felt too cagey for his taste. But now, here, on Christmas, with two people he might be able to consider his family, he has never felt safer. 

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kiddo.” Kev speaks into his hair. Mickey pulls away after a minute and gives them a smile. 

“Merry Christmas, honey.” Veronica squeezes his arm. 

Merry Christmas indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed, and merry christmas to those of you who celebrate. to those who don’t, happy friday! love u guys tons, and im very thankful to have people reading my work, so thank you millions for being such great people <3


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, hope your christmas was good if you celebrated. i apologize if there are mistakes in here i wrote this whole thing in like an hour while having a breakdown so enjoy!

“Mickey.”

‘Look how interesting this wall is, Mickey. Look at the vandalization, and- the interesting tiles, and shit. Fuck. He’s still looking.’

Mickey tears his eyes away from the wall, instead choosing to walk away. He’s managed to avoid Ian for all of winter break, and he really doesn’t want to ruin the streak. 

“Mickey. You can just run away!”

He raises his right hand, flipping off the space behind him as he rushes outside. He just needs to get to his house, then he can lock the door and leave the pestering redhead outside to freeze. Just as Mickey ducks out through the gym doors and out to the back of the school, he’s pressed against the wall, painfully similar to the very reason they’re in this situation. 

“Let go of me.”

Ian dips his head, trying to make eye contact with Mickey. The shorter boy stares down at the ground, his teeth clenched. 

“I’ll let go of you if you promise not to run.”

“Fuck you.”

Ian tightens his grip on Mickey’s wrists. “I just wanna talk.”

“Let me go, Gallagher.”

“Then you stay. If you think running is gonna help anything you’re wrong. I have a key to your house.”

“Why the fuck do you have a key?”

Ian shrugs. “Kev gave me one- that’s not the point.” He presses Mickey further into the wall. “Say you won’t run.”

“Gallagher.”

“Say it.”

Mickey rolls his neck back, raising an eyebrow at the boy’s anger. “I won’t run.”

Ian releases him, Mickey immediately bringing his wrists to his chest and rubbing the red marks, scowling. True to his word, he doesn’t leave, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy to stay. 

“Good. Can we talk now?”

“At least walk with me. I have shit to do tonight.”

Ian nods, walking alongside Mickey. “What shit?”

“Gotta get a job.”

“Kev and V making you?”

“No.”

Ian tucks his hands under his armpits, sighing quietly. “You know what I want to talk about.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make it any less stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Mickey. We need to discuss what happened.” Ian frowns, walking in front of Mickey just to turn, needing to always be looking at him. It’s exhausting. 

“I was drunk.”

“Not true. Kev started keeping a lock on their booze cabinet since Lip tried to steal from him. You wanna keep lying or man up and address this?”

“It was a mistake.” Mickey rolls his eyes, quickening his pace. The sooner he can get away from Ian, the sooner this conversation will be over. What is with the universe and making him sit through awful talks nowadays?

Mickey presumes he’s said the wrong thing, because Ian’s face falls. The boy turns around and starts walking away, causing Mickey to shake his head and follow him. 

“Hey, hey, what?”

“So that’s all it was? A mistake?”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, man? That I’m in love with you? Jesus Christ, Gallagher. Grow up.”

Ian flips around, glaring at Mickey. “I felt something.”

“Yeah, felt your dick up my ass. I’m not- I’m not gay, dude.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Ian rolls his eyes and walks toward Mickey. He looks around before grabbing his arm, pulling the two of them into an alley. Mickey allows Ian to manhandle him, hoping the boy will give up soon and leave him alone. Ian presses him against a wall. That seems to be his move, and frankly, Mickey is getting tired of it. 

“You mean to tell me you didn’t feel anything?”

“Nothing.” Mickey stares at a spot on Ian’s cheek, zeroing in on a single freckle. He wonders briefly how many he has. 

“Nothing, huh?” Ian slowly leans forward, nosing at Mickey’s jaw. Mickey feels his breath hitch, caught in his throat, as the redhead slowly places light kisses on his neck. 

“Gallagher..”

“What? Wanna tell me how you’re straight? Go ahead. Tell me.”

“I like- I like.. girls. I only like..” he trails off, his eyes falling shut and his head hitting the wall behind him. Ian presses himself against him, carefully sliding one of his legs in between Mickey’s, sucking the skin on his neck. 

“Mhm. What else?”

Mickey finally comes to his senses after a minute, taking a deep breath and shoving Ian away. He rubs a hand down his face and slides down the alley, taking a second to breathe before speaking. “I don’t- I can’t like.. like you.”

“Who said that?” Ian kicks at a rock with his foot. He hesitates before sitting down next to Mickey. He grabs a cigarette pack out of his pocket and offers Mickey one, lighting it for him. 

Mickey inhales the smoke and breathes out slowly, passing it to Ian. “Fuckin’ everyone.”

“Really? Haven’t heard that yet,” Ian says cheekily, knocking his foot against Mickey’s. 

“Fuck off. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” Ian passes the cigarette back and tucks his hands between his thighs. “I.. I don’t really know how I feel. Just- I think I like you.”

“That’s really gay, Gallagher.”

“Well, I liked the sex, at least.”

“Can we please just.. I dunno, stop talking about this shit?”

“Mickey. I’m confused. I don’t know what we are.”

“ _ We  _ are nothing. That was one time. Doesn’t mean we’re fucking boyfriend girlfriend.”

Ian pouts down at his hands. “Can we still have sex?”

Mickey attempts to glare, but he can’t help the small snort that exits his nose. He turns his head to the side and smirks around the cigarette hanging from his teeth. “Depends. Not if you’re gonna be so fucking annoying about it again.” 

“You’re a dick, man,” Ian mumbles. “Hey, I think I can help you out with the job thing.”

-

“You- what? Huh?” Kev’s face scrunches up in confusion, tilting his head like a puppy as they all sit at the dinner table, divvying up what was left of last night’s pizza. 

“Got a job.”

“Why?” Veronica asks, leaning her cheek on her palm. 

Mickey hums in a little, ‘I dunno’ type way. He looks down at his food and picks a piece of crust off the cold pizza, going to pop it in his mouth when he realizes they’re still waiting for him to audibly answer. “Gallagher got me one.”

“Which Gallagher?”

“Ian.” 

“Where?”

“At that uh.. convenience store he works at. They needed someone for security.”

“Mickey, you didn’t have to get a job..”

“Yeah, well, not every foster home is as.. generous as you. Gotta have some cash for when I transfer out, yeah?”

Veronica stares uncomfortably at her hands, hoping her husband takes the lead on this one, but he doesn’t, so they sit in awkward silence, everyone finishing their pizza with record time. They’re saved from their destructive quietness when a loud knocking is heard from the door, one that Kev gladly gets up to answer, only to be met with a crying Fiona. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Kev asks, his voice softening as he tugs Fiona to his chest. Mickey looks at Veronica with concern, then promptly gets up to leave. Just as he places his plate in the sink, he hears Fiona’s voice, broken and muffled against Kev’s shirt. 

“We lost the house.”

“Huh? What?” Veronica stands, making her way over to the two of them. She closes the door and leans forward, wiping Fiona’s hair from her wet cheeks, cupping her face gently. 

“They- they took the house. We don’t.. the kids, V..” she cries harder, pulling away from Kev and wiping her face. Mickey leans against the wall, takes his phone out, and shoots a text before he can think about it too much. 

_ To: Ian  _

heard abt the house, u good?

His phone vibrates almost immediately. 

_ From: Ian _

come to the store?

Mickey doesn’t reply, grabbing his jacket from the rack by the kitchen and pulling it on. He walks toward the door and frowns at the scene in front of him, Fiona immediately wiping the tears off her face and offering him a small smile. Mickey hesitates before uncomfortably placing his hand on her shoulder, a sore attempt at comfort, but she sniffs and places her hand over his, so he guesses it works. 

“I’m going out. Need me to grab anything?” He turns to Veronica, pulling his arm away from Fiona and fiddling with his ring. She shakes her head, so he leaves, walking as quickly as possible to the store. Once he enters, he’s met with the sight of an old man yelling at Ian, gesturing wildly. Mickey winces a bit at the yelling and inhales, clearing his throat. 

“There a problem?”

The man turns to look at Mickey, his gaze angry and annoyed. Mickey meets his look with a similar one, raising his eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, this idiot can’t count, and is trying to steal my fucking money!” He points at Ian, the redhead staring down at the register. Mickey can recognize the glistening in his eyes and decides to end this now. 

“Or, maybe he counted wrong. He’s a kid, man. Fuck off.” 

“If he’s too stupid to count change, he’s too stupid to hold down a job. Where’s the manager?”

“Watch it.” Mickey glares, stepping forward. “I’ll give you one more chance. Apologize and get the fuck out.”

“No way in hell.”

Mickey shrugs. “Your funeral, bitch.” He throws a punch, causing the old dude to stumble back and grab at his face, the ring having sliced a nice cut in his cheek. Mickey grins down at his hand and squares up again, waiting for the fight, but the old guy only grabs his food from the counter and runs off. 

“That’s what I thought!” Mickey yells after him, shaking his hand out. He laughs a little before remembering Ian’s still there, turning back and raising an eyebrow. 

“Fuck was his problem?”

Ian wipes at his eyes, and Mickey checks the clock. The store is supposed to close in an hour. 

“Hey, where’s Kash?”

“Vacation.” Ian sniffs, sitting down on the stool behind the register. 

“Cameras?”

“Turned ‘em off.” 

Mickey walks over to the door and locks it, turning the ‘open’ sign and flicking the store light off. He returns back to Ian and leans over the counter, barely able to see the boy in the dark. 

“You okay?”

“Not really,” Ian mumbles. He sniffles a couple times, a telltale sign there are definitely some tears running down his face. Mickey does something with his face that resembles a pout and looks around the dark store. 

“Alright, sniffles. Anything I can do?”

Ian shakes his head, wiping his face. Mickey suddenly turns to him with a smirk. 

“Wanna fuck in the closet?”

They head back, Ian pretending not to care while they have sex, and Mickey pretending not to notice Ian’s hand gripping his own and the tears that fall down his back. It’s a messed up game they’re playing, but it works for now, so they might as well not change it. 

At least he doesn’t leave hickies this time.

-

Mickey walks Ian back to their neighbourhood, kicking at rocks while they avoid the topic of what just happened. 

“So, how long till you’re booted?” Mickey asks, shivering a little. Ian shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Couple days, I think.”

“That’s really shitty, man.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Mickey asks, staring down at a drunk man passed out by the Gallagher’s fence. Ian doesn’t even look down. 

“Frank.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Okay. Cool.” He stops outside his door, looking down at his bruising knuckle and stands there for a second. “Uh. If you’re like, gonna kill yourself or something… don’t.”

To his surprise, Ian snorts out a laugh, resting his hand on the doorknob and smiling a little. “Thanks for the advice, Mick.”

“I just- nevermind. Night.” Mickey leaves Ian at his house, walking over to his own and entering. Fiona is sitting at the table with Kev and V, all three of them surrounded by coffee and vodka. They’re so concentrated they don’t even notice when Mickey pours himself a class and grabs some cranberry juice, sipping on the beverage and sitting next to Fiona. 

“We can legally take two of yours.”

“That’s fine! That’s- uh, that’s good. Lip is staying with his girlfriend, and uh.. I think Debbie will be fine in any house she’s in, plus Liam is young enough he won’t remember it. Can you take Carl and Ian?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow, looking at the three of them. Fiona is less frantic, though her eyes are still puffy, but at least her hair doesn’t look matted anymore. 

“Yeah, for sure,” Kev responds, yawning. He looks at Mickey and grabs his drink, taking a sip, then coughs loudly. “No. Bad.”

“Let him drink, Kev.” Fiona frowns, sending Mickey a wink when Kev slowly hands the cup back over to him. Mickey smiles a little and looks away. 

“And how long will this be?”

“I just need Frank to sign over parental rights, and then we go to court. Should only be a couple weeks max.”

“So, like, they’re moving in?” Mickey asks, trying to keep his face still. It’s not that he’s excited or anything, he really doesn’t care for the scrawny kid, just knows he’s a good fuck (based on the tough ache is ass), and his smile isn’t that ugly to look at, he supposes. 

“Yeah. For a little bit. That good?”

“Whatever.” Mickey shrugs. 

Veronica nods, standing up. “Alright. Come on, babe. I’ll take you home.” She pushes Fiona’s glass out of her hand and grabs her by the waist, helping her up gently, rubbing her side with a care only Veronica can muster. It’s something Mickey know he’ll miss once he’s gone. 

Kev turns to Mickey once the girls leave. “Kid, you sure you’re good with the kids staying here?”

“Yeah. I don’t care.”

“Thanks, man.” Kev smiles. Mickey finishes his drink and heads up to his room, placing his phone on the nightstand and stripping off his shirt and jeans, crawling into bed. He’s pretty tired, and honestly, his ass is too sore to keep walking. Mickey closes his eyes and just as he’s about to fall asleep, his phone rings, causing him to groan loudly and grab at it, answering it without looking at the caller ID. 

“What.”

“You and Ian?”

Mickey rolls his eyes, sitting up and grumbling under his breath. “Fuck off.”

“Are you just fucking him?” Lip asks, sounding awfully smug over the phone. 

“Oh- Jesus Christ, please learn some fucking boundaries.”

“Are you two dating or not?” His voice suddenly turns serious.

“No, we aren’t dating. We aren’t anything, man. Let me sleep?”

“It’s like 11.”

“I don’t care.”

“Listen, just-“ Lip stops, trying to find the right words. “Don’t hurt him, okay? I may like you, but I don’t for a second trust that you won’t play him just because you want a quick fuck. Take his feelings into consideration, you know?”

“Thanks for the shovel talk. Good riddance.” Mickey hangs up, laying back down into bed and wrapping himself in his blankets. He sighs contentedly and nuzzles his face deeper into his pillow when his phone rings again. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, leave me alone!”

“Mick?” Ian’s voice is small, especially after being yelled at by a sleepy Mickey. When Mickey is deprived from his rest, he can turn into a real bitch. 

“Oh- shit. Sorry. Thought you were Lip again.” 

“Why is Lip calling you?”

“Something about your feelings or whatever. Tell your family to chill out, man. Seriously.”

“Sorry,” Ian murmurs. “Uh, I just- thank you, for.. like, coming to the store. Thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Mickey puts his phone on speaker and rests it on his nightstand, relaxing into bed again. 

“Mickey?”

Mickey hums. 

“It just.. I’m really scared, man. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t lose my house, because then I’ll be homeless, and I can’t be homeless if I’m gonna go to university. They won’t let me in if I don’t have an address-“

“Gallagher.”

Ian catches his breath, sniffing over the phone. “What?”

“Calm down. Listen, I don’t really know jack shit about your family other than the fact that you’re all psychos, but I think you’ll figure this out. Just use your head.”

Ian stays silent, so Mickey sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “C’mon, man. You don’t seriously think Fiona won’t fight tooth and nail for this shit? Lip, too? And- whoever the fuck else is in your house?”

“I guess.”

“Yeah. You guess. I’m just sayin’, you get your head so far up that ass of yours that you don’t remember to breathe. Things are gonna be okay, dude. I promise.” Mickey waits a full minute without hearing from Ian before speaking together. “Gallagher?”

To no response, Mickey rolls his eyes and closes them, cuddling closer to his pillow. 

“G’nite, man.”

If anyone were to ask, Mickey would say he was just too lazy to reach over and end the call, but in all honesty, the quiet sounds of Ian breathing deeply are enough to lull him to sleep, making him feel not so alone in his big room. He’ll take it to his grave. 

They’re gonna be okay. Mickey will make sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will be honest, once i go back to school in like a week, uploading is gonna slow down. time for your opinion: would you guys prefer shorter chapters (like >1000-2000 words) updated more regularly or longer chapters (3000+ words) less often? lmk :)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoy :) TW: talk of sexual assault and a panic attack

“Please.”

Mickey grunts, shoving his textbook in his locker and slamming the door shut, causing Ian to jump. Usually at lunch, Mickey will walk over to the diner across the street, or eat his bagged lunch in an alley when he needs to be away from people, but recently, he’s been spending his lunches with Ian and (sometimes) Lip, going so far as to sit at a table in the cafeteria. 

“No.”

“It’ll be like a double date.”

Mickey whips his head around, taking his finger and shoving it at Ian’s chest. “You say that shit again I will rip all your fucking teeth out.”

“Okay, tough guy. Come on. Just once.”

“I’m not going.”

“Mickeyyyyy,” Ian groans. leaning against the row of lockers. “Please.”

“We are not a fucking couple. And I don’t really care to see your gross ass brother shoving his tongue down Mandy’s throat all lunch.” Today, they were invited to sit with both Mandy and Lip in the cafeteria, and honestly, Mickey would rather die. 

“She said she wanted to see you. Plus, I mean, we don’t know how long it’ll be before I can see Lip after this week.”

“You go to the same school, idiot.”

Ian pouts, crossing his arms across the chest. “I’ll blow you after school.”

Mickey grabs his bag off the ground and throws one strap over his shoulder. “Fine. But it better be the best damn blowie you’ve ever given.”

Ian smirks, kicking off the lockers and leading the two of them to the cafeteria. They sit down at a table next to Lip and Mandy, the girl excitedly squeaking at the sight of her brother, and Lip nodding in greeting. Mickey doesn’t miss the arm he’s got around her.

To his surprise, lunch isn’t as terrible as he expects. Ian keeps attempting to include Mickey in conversations, but the man keeps his eyes focused on his bagged lunch, decorated with his name and an illustration of a dick in Kev’s messy handwriting. He doesn’t touch his food, only fiddling with the ring on his finger, hoping the bell rings soon. 

“So, you’re happy at your place?” Mandy asks, resting her hand over Mickey’s. He scowls and pulls away, scratching at his eyebrow. 

“Only there for a couple more weeks.”

Mandy frowns. “They won’t send you away on your birthday.”

Ian tilts his head. “Birthday?”

“Jesus, Mandy,” Mickey groans, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“You do this every year, Mickey. It’s fucking annoying.” 

“When’s your birthday?” Ian asks, tapping Mickey’s foot under the table. Mickey rolls his eyes. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“The 19th.” Mandy smiles. Mickey glares at her and shoves his lunch back in his bag, going to stand, but Ian grabs the sleeve of his hoodie and pulls him back down. 

“What’re you doing for it?” Lip asks, chewing on a carrot.

“Fuckin’ nothing.”

“You can’t just do nothing, Mickey, you gotta have a party.”

“Birthday parties are for old fucks and kids under 6. I don’t need a goddamn party.”

“But-“ Ian starts. Mickey turns to look at him. 

“Drop it.”

“Fine, grumpy pants,” Ian mumbles. 

The lunch bell rings, and true to his word, Ian gives Mickey a great blowjob after school. It’s the best outcome for all. 

-

By Saturday, Ian has all his stuff in a couple bags, standing outside the door, his hand being held tightly by a kid who looks about 9. Veronica welcomes them both in with tight hugs and cheek kisses, and Mickey keeps his spot on the couch, trying not to seem too interested. 

“So, might as well discuss this now,” Veronica starts, looking over to Mickey. “We don’t exactly have a lot of space here, so we agreed that one of you can sleep in Mickey’s room and the other will have to take the couch.”

Ian looks down at Carl, shaking his head. “You take the room, buddy.”

“No.”

“I’m fine on the couch.” Ian smiles. It’s cute, Mickey thinks, then perishes the thought. 

“I want the couch.”

“Why do you want the couch?” 

“Closer to the kitchen.”

Ian rolls his eyes, ruffling Carl’s hair and glancing at Mickey. “Fine. I can sleep in his room.”

Kev nods. “I can grab a mattress, put it on the floor.”

Once they agree on sleeping arrangements, Veronica makes dinner while Kev drags a mattress to lay beside Mickey’s bed, and it’s awkward as hell but Mickey’s secretly bubbling on the inside at the idea of Ian sharing a room with him. They’re not exactly the quietest during sex, so it might be off the table for right now, but hey, he can always shove a shirt in his mouth. 

At around midnight, Carl curls up on the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows, so the rest of the people in the house agree it’s time for bed. Veronica and Kev hug Ian and give Mickey an almost proud look before retiring to their room, leaving the boys alone. 

“So, who’s taking the bed?” Ian asks once they’re in Mickey’s room. Mickey raises an eyebrow at the tattered mattress and imagines the pain in his neck that will arise tomorrow. Still, Ian has puffy eyes and tear tracks down his face that he thinks Mickey can’t see, so he shrugs and flops down on the thin material, trying to keep a neutral face. 

“This is good for me.”

Ian raises an eyebrow. “Are you volunteering to take the mattress?” He asks, then yawns, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at Mickey. 

“Fuck does it look like, sleepy face?” Mickey stands and goes to his closet. “You got clothes to sleep in?”

“I usually just sleep in jeans.”

Mickey turns to him. “That is a fucking crime.” He grabs a couple oversized shirts and throws one at Ian, changing into one of his own and tugging his pants down his legs, only to cover them in a pair of sweats. He can feel Ian’s eyes on him and even though he’s seen him in a much more naked state, he feels insecure. 

Ian tugs on the shirt Mickey gave him, taking his jeans off and crawling under the bed. Mickey flicks the light off and goes to lay on the mattress. It’s a couple minutes later when Ian speaks. 

“Mickey?”

“What?”

“Are you awake?”

“No, I’m sleeping,” he mumbles. “Yes, I’m awake, dumbass.”

Ian is silent, and Mickey can practically hear his frown. “It’s cold.”

“There are blankets there for a reason.”

“Just come lay with me?”

Mickey rolls his eyes and rolls onto his back. “I’m not gonna sleep with you, dude, that’s fucking gay.” 

“You have before.”

“Yeah, that was when your ass wouldn’t get the fuck out of my bed. Do you know how much space you take up, gigantor?”

Ian sits up and looks in the direction of Mickey. “Please.”

“No. Fuck off.” Mickey turns back on his side and closes his eyes. He waits until Ian’s breathing evens out a little before silently standing, his conscience getting the better of him, and carefully crawls into bed next to him. He tries to keep his distance and stay on one side, but Ian turns and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Mickey decides not to fight it. 

Ian opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, but Mickey moves closer to him, closing his eyes. “Not a word, Gallagher.”

Their relationship is built on pretending. They can imagine a world where nothing is wrong and it’s enough to keep them both going, so heavy topics are usually off the table, and though Ian is a fan of pillow talk, Mickey just can’t handle it. He knows Ian understands him when he feels a cold nose pressed to the back of his neck, and soon, they’re both sound asleep. 

-

It goes on for a few days; Mickey pretends he’s gonna sleep on the floor then wordlessly slides next to Ian, accepting the big doofus’ arm around him and acting like he’s annoyed with it. It’s working for both of them, and even though they have to sneak off to the store multiple times a day to relieve the energy that’s built up overnight, they’re both happy with it. 

On Saturday, the one week anniversary of Ian and Carl moving in, Mickey is fast asleep with his face smushed against Ian’s chest, and the younger boy is simply looking at him. 

Mickey always has this energy coming off him, the whole, ‘fuck with me I’ll end you’ kind of vibe. His eyebrows are always knitted together, and he has a permanent scowl on his face. Even when he’s happy, he looks worried, as if the world has never been kind to him. Right now, he’s at peace, vulnerable enough to trust Ian to see him in such a way. It’s honouring. 

Mickey twitches on him, and Ian reaches down to move a strand of hair off the boy’s face. He’s still for a minute before moving again, his fingers curling up into fists and his head shifting around. He moves and presses his face into Ian’s shoulder, a small whine crawling up his throat. Ian sits up slowly and places a hand on Mickey’s face, trying to calm him down a little. 

It only gets worse from there. Mickey starts moving violently, mumbling things under his breath and crying silently. Ian doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know if he should go get Kev and V, but he’s afraid if he leaves now Mickey will get worse, so he stays and tries to figure out the easiest way to go about this. 

Mickey’s movements are starting to get harmful. He flails his hand around and hits himself in the leg, and truthfully, it hurts Ian to see him like this, so he does the first thing he can think of and straddle Mickey’s thighs, grabbing his swinging arms and holding them tightly. Mickey lets out a cry and arches his back, so Ian leans down close to his face. 

“Hey, hey. Come on. You’re okay. Wake up, Mick. It’s alright.” He keeps his voice soft. 

“‘Fuck off me!” Mickey grunts, still asleep. Ian rubs his thumbs over Mickey’s knuckles. 

“Mickey.”

The boy settles down a little, sniffling and whining quietly. He cranes his neck and tries to fight his hands free, but Ian leans back and keeps his grip, still trying to wake him up.

“There we go. Easy. Wake up, man. You’re okay.”

Mickey flinches awake, sitting up and crashing his face in Ian’s chest. He doesn’t think, just moves forward and buries his face in the warm body, sniffling and shaking. Ian lets go of his hands and wraps them around his shoulders, running his hand through Mickey’s hair. 

“That’s good, calm down. I’m right here.”

Mickey catches his breath, still pressed against Ian, and pulls away after a couple minutes. He wipes his face aggressively and pushes at Ian, forcing a scowl on his tired face. 

“Get off me.”

“Mick-“

“Get the fuck off me, man. I need- outside.” Mickey shoves him harder, standing up and opening his window for air. He leans his head forward and Ian stands as well, joining Mickey at the window and placing a tentative hand on his back. 

“Do you wanna go outside?”

“Yeah,” Mickey exhales, his hands shaking. Ian grabs a hoodie from the closet and helps him put it on. He throws a jacket on and grabs Mickey’s hand, helping him through the window and keeping his grip on his hand as they walk. 

“Where do you wanna go, Mick?”

Mickey looks around, his fingers weakly twitching in Ian’s hold. He shrugs and takes a deep breath, letting the cold air burn through his lungs and calm him down. 

“I know a place.”

The ‘place’ turns out to be an old abandoned warehouse with a ladder at the back, one that Ian helps Mickey climb and onto the roof, sitting down next to him and swinging his legs off the side. Mickey’s still shaking so Ian places his hand on his thigh, rubbing his thumb over his sweatpants. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah- just- this is fucking gay, man.”

Ian chuckles, looking out at the sky. “I like it here. Can't really see the stars good, but it’s there.”

Mickey digs through the hoodie pocket, grabbing a cigarette pack and taking one out. He glances at Ian and reaches over, grabbing a lighter from Ian’s pocket. He lights it and takes a drag, his shoulders melting a little, then passes it over to Ian. 

“Why are you so..” Ian starts after a few minutes of silence, trying to find the right words. “Guarded?”

Mickey side eyes him and takes a puff, his fingers twitching around the cig. “Fuck you mean, man?”

“You act like.. like the world is out to get you. Why?”

“I didn’t come here for a goddamn therapy session, Gallagher.” 

Ian looks around. “Nobody else here, Mick. Might as well talk.”

Mickey inhales again. “My dad.”

“What did he do?”

“Way too much, man.” Mickey drops the cigarette of the roof, watching as it falls and smashes into the grass. 

“Is he why you, like.. refuse to accept you’re gay?”

“I’m not gay.”

“I think you are. And- and that’s okay, Mick. It’s fine.”

Mickey clenches his hand into a fist. Ian turns to look at him, then down to his hand, and back up to his face. 

“If you wanna hit me, fine. Go ahead. If you need to prove you’re straight to- to settle something in you, then whatever.” 

To his surprise, Mickey unclenches his hand and rests it down on his own leg, staring out into the distance. “Grew up hearing nothing but shit. How my dad would fagbash the kids he caught in alleys, or rape the guys in prison because he needed to make himself feel like a man.”

Ian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even react. He knows Mickey will probably never speak of this again, and honestly, he’s willing to take it all. 

“Found my stash of mags when I was 13. Flipped shit. Beat me until I couldn’t move then called one of his whores to come fuck the gay out of me. Kept a gun on my head and told me if I moved he would shoot. I know he would’ve.”

Ian exhales.

“I was stuck in bed for days. Told me if I didn’t get a girl over he would kill me. I used to invite this one chick over and she would moan for a couple minutes and shake the headboard, then leave and tell Terry it was the best she ever had. He laid off but..”

Ian waits for him to finish, but when he doesn’t, he taps his foot against Mickey. “But?”

“Caught me with a guy last year, when he was out of jail and I was back with him. He lost his shit. Shot around the house a bunch, hit my guy right in the gut. Neighbour called the cops and he was hauled off the jail. I don’t- I can’t be gay, man. It just ain’t something I can just be.”

Ian slowly reaches over and grips his hand, pulling it into his lap and rubbing at his fingers. “You can, Mick. You can. This life isn’t all you’re meant to have. You’re gonna get out of here soon and be something big, and being gay can be apart of that.”

Mickey blinks heavily. “Not everyone can just say what they fucking feel all the time.” 

“Then say it once. Now. With me.”

Mickey glares at the ground. “I can’t.”

“If you can say it once, you can say it again. It gets easier every time. Listen,” Ian tugs at Mickey’s hand. “I’m Ian Gallagher and I’m gay. And there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“Just give it a try.”

Mickey is quiet for a minute, breathing deeply and squeezing Ian’s hand back. He looks up, gathers the last bit of courage he has, and faces Ian. “I’m- I’m gay.”

Ian gives him the biggest grin, similar to the stupid one he first saw him wearing two months ago. Mickey feels a weight lifted off his shoulder and slouches.

“I’m really proud of you, Mick. Really really proud.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Mickey glances behind him and lays down, resting on his back and looking up. Ian follows his action and does the same, reaching in between the two and grabbing Mickey’s hand again. They stay there in silence for a while, just listening to each other breathing and watching the dull stars shine through the pollution in the sky. 

“You’re a good guy,” Ian speaks, letting go of Mickey’s hand and rolling into his side, looking at Mickey kindly. 

“Stop being such a chick, man.”

Mickey leans up on his elbows, breathing in through his nose. Ian is leaning practically over him, and his eyes slot through his before moving down to his lips. Mickey wants to shove him off, tell him to piss off and run, wants to get as far away as possible and run away to Mexico. Ian slowly moves forward, placing a hand on his cheek and rubbing his thumb over his lips, leaning in closer. 

“Is this okay?”

“Just shut up,” Mickey mumbles, craning his neck connecting their lips. They move together in harmony, their lips slotting perfectly in each other, and for a second, Mickey can allow himself to believe this is okay, that this is where he’s meant to be; under Ian, with Ian, right here. 

They pull away, Mickey’s face flushed and his body absolutely vibrating. Ian smiles at him, full of vibrancy and happiness and content. Mickey lets out a shaky breath and moves forward, straddling Ian and dragging him in for a passionate kiss. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, but after one kiss, he feels like he’s addicted. Mickey had tried almost every drug that exists but this is a high he wants to ride for the rest of his life. 

He goes to take his shirt off, but Ian grabs his hands, pulling back. 

“We don’t have to rush, Mickey. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“No, we don’t. And that’s the issue. Now start stripping.”

Ian chuckles, his hands grabbing at Mickey’s hips and rubbing his thumbs over his hip bones. “Calm down. It’s fine. We don’t have to do anything right now. This is nice, just- just us.”

Mickey frowns and leans down, kissing him again. He’s heard too much poetic shit and he doesn’t want to have to pretend it isn’t painful to hear Ian try to mumble through big words he doesn’t even understand. Eventually, he crawls off Ian and lays down next to him, breathing out heavily. 

“Man, you kiss better than Lip.”

“I- what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, it’s been a rough couple days but I wanted to upload something. hope you’re all doing well, let me know what you think <3


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was realllllllllly not expecting this chapter to be so long, but whatever, take my brain rot. also in regards to last chapter, i am aware mickey’s bday is in august, but i changed it bc mine is in january and it made me happy. enjoy <3

Mickey stares down at the paper in front of him, his eyebrow raises and his arms crossed.

“Fuck is this?”

“College applications, Mikhailo.”

“For?”

Mr. Davis blinks. “For… college.”

“Yeah, but why are you givin’ em to me?”

“Jesus, you know, you’re smart, Mikhalio, but you really are a dumbass sometimes. You need these to apply to colleges.”

“I’m not going to college, man.”

“Sit.” Mr. Davis gestures down to the seat across from him. Mickey wordlessly follows, chewing down on his lip. “Listen, you have what it takes to get into university-“

“No I fucking don’t.”

“Mickey, you’re what- 15?”

“Almost 17.” Mickey shifts his feet. 

“Shit,” he swears. “You should've started this already, but whatever. You have a year and a half. So, are you gonna stay in state or travel?”

“I’m not going to college,” Mickey repeats. 

“Do you know what your GPA is, Mickey?”

“Man, I don’t even know what a fucking GPA is. Just- it’s fine. I know I ain’t going anywhere.”

Mr. Davis slides a paper across the desk, clasping his hands together. Mickey blinks a couple times before reading the certificate, his eyes traveling over the paper a few times, fingers twitching at his sides. 

“Honour roll. One of the best students in your grade, to be exact. I’ll be blunt. Your personality is shit, but damn are you smart. I don’t know how you did it, but universities are gonna be placing bids on you. Your life story is sad, kid, you just milk that and boom- you’re in Harvard.”

“I’m not- what? Honour roll? Huh?” Mickey stutters dumbly. He grabs the paper and stares at it, then back up to his guidance counselor. 

“Look. You have the qualifications to get into a great college, Mickey, you just need to start applying soon. You have a 4.0 GPA, and you’re passing your classes with flying colours.”

“I think you got my name mixed up there, dude, because this is definitely not right.”

“What did you get on your last test?”

“I dunno. Don’t look at that shit.”

Mr. Davis exhales heavily through his nose. “Take these sheets, give the certificate to your parents, yadda yadda ya, come back once you’re ready to have a proper conversation about your future. Until then, think it over, talk with your friends and family. You have a little bit of time.”

Mickey scratches at his eyebrow and gestures with his hand. “You just said I have a year and a half!”

“Yeah, until graduation. But you need to start thinking.”

Mickey rolls his eyes and stands, shoving the honour roll certificate in his bag and grabbing the stack of papers. He exits the office and hides them in his locker, then goes off to his period D classroom. Mickey’s confused, to say the least. 

He’s never cared for grades, scribbling drawings on his assignments and half assing all of them. Still, as he sits in his history class and is given a pop quiz, he actually takes time to look at the questions, recognizing each of them as stuff he’s read from his group home library, or online when he was trying to find porn. It’s weird, being told you’re smart, especially when you grow up being told since you’re a Milkovich, you are going nowhere in life. 

College is a scary thought, and Mickey certainly isn’t gonna bring it up with Kev and V, so he spends an hour after school looking at universities and filling out forms. He knows there is no way in hell he’s getting in any of these, but still, it’s a little bit of excitement; allowing himself to make believe of the future and pretend he’s gonna get the hell out of here someday. 

Mickey heads back home, an extra pep in his step, and barely gets through the door when he lays his eyes on chaos. Carl is standing on a chair, hitting at the fire alarm with a baseball bat as it rings through the house. Mickey immediately drops his bag and rushes forward, grabbing the kid by the waist and tugging him off the chair. Carl yelps as Mickey pulls him onto the ground and snatches the bat from him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey asks, anger seeping through his voice. Carl glares up at him. 

“Getting the stupid alarm to shut up before the fire department comes here.”

“You turn it off, dipshit, not beat it.” Mickey climbs on the chair and presses a switch, the mangled alarm shutting off, and only then Mickey smells the smoke. “What the hell did you do?”

“Small fire.” Carl shrugs, pointing over to the microwave. It’s black and seeping smoke. 

“Jesus Christ.” Mickey hops off the chair and walks to the microwave, pulling his shirt over his nose and inspecting the damage. He unplugs it and hits it with a towel, promptly putting out the fire. “And this happened how?”

Carl has the nerve to look sheepish as he stares down at his shoes. “Tried to microwave action figures together.”

Mickey knows what his dad would do, grab his hand and force it on the burning hot plastic until he promised never to do anything like that again, but Carl just fiddles with his hoodie sleeves and looks up at Mickey innocently. The older boy looks down at the kid, his face covered in soot. He rolls his eyes and returns back to the kid, grabbing his face gently and moving it around.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Carl sniffs a little. 

Mickey ruffles his messy hair. “Come on.” He walks to the bathroom, placing the toilet seat down and grabbing a washcloth, wetting it and gesturing for the kid to sit down. Mickey washes the muck off his face, narrowing his eyes at the dark bruise under Carl’s right eye. 

“How’d that happen?”

Carl looks down at his hands. “Kids at school,” he mumbles. Mickey gets more water on the towel and dabs at his eye gently. 

“Get in a fight?”

“I guess. There were like 5 guys on me. Couldn’t get them all off.”

Mickey frowns. “You need me to come to your school?”

Carl shakes his head and winces when the towel scratches at his black eye. He tugs at the hem of his hoodie and leans back against the toilet. 

“I’m sorry, Mickey.”

Mickey shrugs and stretches out a little once his face is clean. “Not my kitchen. Save it for Kev and V.” He looks down at Carl, his frown deepening. “You sure you don’t need help at school? I’m a-okay with beating up a bunch of little shitheads.”

“I’m okay. Principle saw and suspended them.”

“Happen a lot?” Mickey asks. Carl just shrugs, and Mickey assumes he wants to drop it, so he helps the kid stand up. “You need a shower, kid, you smell like fire,” he says before leaving, tidying up the kitchen and checking the damage on the microwave. It’s toasted. 

When Kev and V come home that night, Carl looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack, so Mickey stands in front of him and shrugs. 

“My fault. I didn’t put enough water in my shit and it blew up. I already ordered another one.”

Veronica sighs unhappily but nods as Kev starts the lecture on being responsible with kitchen supplies. Carl shoots him a grateful look and goes to the couch, putting on some movie about death and war. The kid is gonna grow up to be a psycho, Mickey decides. 

Ian views this all going down from the kitchen table, looking up from his phone and watching as Mickey takes the heat for his brother, not even hesitating before lying for him. He meets Mickey’s eyes and gives him a smile, causing the boy to turn around, hiding the red crawling up his face. 

Goddamn Gallagher’s. 

-

“Mickey, do you have any change?” Veronica asks a few nights later, dressed in a skin tight bodysuit and a jacket. Mickey doesn’t look away from the TV before answering. 

“In my bag, I think.”

It’s fairly calm in the house, which isn’t usual, so Mickey is pretty much waiting for something to happen. Carl starting another fire, Ian jumping him in front of everyone, Terry busting through the door and shooting him; he isn’t sure, but the air feels off. 

“What’s this?” Veronica speaks, her voice a little tight. Mickey remembers the joint he has hidden in his backpack pocket and whips his head around, his eyes wide, but she’s not holding his drugs, instead her hands are equipped with a paper as she reads it. 

“Uh- that’s, uh- nothing. It’s nothing. Just-“ Mickey stutters, going to snatch it from her, but she squeals and stands, pulling Mickey into a tight hug. 

“What’s going on?” Kev asks, joining the two. Ian gives him a look and, as per usual, Carl is off in his own world, unaware of his surroundings. 

“Mickey made honour roll!”

Mickey pulls away and grabs the paper. “No, I didn’t. They made a mistake.”

Kev takes it from him. “Now, I can’t read very well, but it says your name right there! Mickey! That’s awesome!” He grabs Mickey’s arms with excitement. 

Mickey swats at his hands and steps back, sighing heavily. “It’s not a big fucking deal, man, calm down.”

“It’s amazing, Mick. Like- 5 people in each grade get on honour roll.” Ian smiles from the table, his phone face down and his full attention on the scene in front of him.

“Can we just drop it, please? It isn’t important.”

Veronica grabs his face by the cheeks and kisses him on the forehead, her thumbs running over his pale skin. “It  _ is  _ important. You did something good, Mickey, and you deserve to be happy about it. Now, I gotta go see Fiona, but when I get home, we can pop some champagne, okay? I’m so proud of you.” She hugs him, and Mickey buries his face in her shoulder to hide his smile before pulling back and placing a stoic look on his blushing face. 

Mickey looks over at Kev once she’s gone, scratching the nape of his neck and rolling his eyes when Kev grabs a magnet and sticks the paper on the fridge. 

“That’s some stupid ass shit, you know that?”

Kev clears his throat and speaks. “No offense, but like.. I thought you didn’t care about school.”

“Don’t.” Mickey shrugs. He sits down next to Ian and pretends he doesn’t light up inside when the redhead places a hand on his thigh and squeezes gently. 

“Then how did you get perfect grades?”

“I dunno. Probably cheated. There are some real keeners in my classes, I’ll tell you that.” Mickey grabs a water bottle off the table and takes a gulp, his energy still buzzing.

Later that night, after drinking champagne and blasting music, once everyone is put to bed and the house is quiet, Ian traces shapes onto Mickey’s back from where the shorter boy is resting on his chest. Mickey’s eyes are closed and he might be asleep, but Ian licks his bottom lip and speaks anyway. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Mickey grunts, pressing his face deeper into Ian’s shirt. It’s warm and smells like comfort and cigarettes and everything wrapped up perfectly just for him. 

“I mean it.” Ian moves his fingers up to Mickey’s head and scratches at his scalp. “You’re doing good. I know you haven’t heard that as much as you deserve to, but you’re good.”

Mickey slowly cracks an eye open and cranes his neck, looking at Ian from his position at his centre. Ian gives him a smile and looks down, his double chin never looking more appealing than right now, then uncomfortably leans forward and presses a kiss to Mickey’s lips. Mickey smiles into the kiss and shifts up so he’s closer to Ian, only pulling away when he feels like he's about to pass out, and resting his head in the crook of Ian’s shoulder. 

“You’re good,” Ian repeats, pulling Mickey closer and rubbing circles into his side. “You’re gonna make it out of here someday.”

“You are too, man,” Mickey mumbles into his skin. Ian gives him a breathy laugh and shakes his head as much as he can. 

“Probably not. But it’s okay. I’m fine here.”

“What do you wanna do?”

Ian presses his lips together in thought, breathing in and out a few times. “Medicine, I think. Wanted to be in the army but…”

“Might as well sign up to be target practice at the shooting range.”

Ian snorts a little. He adjusts his position on the bed, turning a bit on his side so his cheek is pressed up against Mickey’s head. He grabs the boys hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing his fingers carefully, as if he’s trying to ease the years of bruised knuckles away. Mickey’s eyes slowly close. 

“Maybe we can get a house somewhere, you know? New York. Or.. France. No- Italy. We can have a little house in Italy and plant fruit, or some shit. You can do whatever you want to do and I can be the town nurse.”

Mickey wants to put his walls back up, to shove Ian out of his bed and pretend he doesn’t have feelings for him, pretend he was just a quick fuck and throw him on the street. He knows himself, knows that the longer they indulge on sappy emotions, the harder it’s gonna be when this ends. Because as much as Mickey wants to believe this can last forever, he knows everything good must end, so instead of being a bitch and crying about it, he has to accept it like a man and make the most of situations like these. Maybe they will get out of here, or maybe the thought is motivation enough to try. 

He clears the noise from his head and snuggles closer to Ian. “Sounds really gay, Gallagher.”

“Exactly.”

_ Exactly.  _

-

The Gallagher’s move back into their shitty house on North Wallace on the 8th of January, welcoming each other with big hugs and tearful greetings as they discuss the court cases Mickey wasn't invited to and how Fiona is now legally their mother. Hey, at least Mickey can refer to her as a milf now and not be incorrect. 

Mickey sits on the couch at their welcome home party, sipping a beer and fiddling with the ring on his finger. Ian is dancing away with Veronica and Lip, a careless grin on his face as music thumps through the room, and Mickey would be dancing, but honestly, he’s trying to keep his spirits up at the fact that he’s no longer gonna be living with Ian. No more late night talks (or late night fucks, because sometimes Mickey would rather be caught by his foster parents than have to go another night without Ian inside him), but everyone else is happy, so he musters up a smile and taps his foot to the beat of the song. 

He feels the weight of the couch shift a tiny bit as a young girl sits next to him, her body dressed in pyjamas and her hair in messy braids. Mickey glances over at her and finishes his beer. 

“‘Sup, strawberry shortcake?”

Debbie turns to look at him and gives him a tired smile. “Hi, Mickey.”

“Ain’t it past your bedtime?”

Debbie nods, yawning and pulling her knees up to her chest. “Fiona usually tucks me in, but she’s busy, so I’ll just wait until she's ready.”

Mickey moves his eyes over to the woman in question, who’s currently passed out with her head resting on Kev’s lap, the man running his fingers through her hair from his position on the kitchen floor. He chuckles a bit and looks back at Debbie. 

“Don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.” 

Debbie frowns and stares down at her hands. Mickey watches her for a couple moments before looking around and nodding toward the stairs. 

“I’ll take you to bed, kay?”

The frown on her face is replaced with a grateful smile as she grabs Mickey’s hand, dragging him up to her room. It’s colourful and headache inducing, as any 10 year old girl’s room would be, but Mickey finds it funny. This is the bedroom Mandy wished she had growing up. 

“It’s embarrassing, but I just can’t sleep without someone in here.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I got used to having company too.” Mickey sits down on her bed. He gestures toward her hair. “Fuck’s up with your head?”

“V said she would teach me, but I haven’t seen her in a while, so I had to learn by myself,” Debbie explains, putting her stuffed animal next to her pillow and standing in front of Mickey. The boy nods in understanding and scratches his eyebrow. 

“It’s not that hard, once you really get a hang of it.”

“You know how to braid?”

Mickey smirks. “Yep. French braid.” He thinks back to the days of Mandy forcing him to braid her hair, complaining about how her arms got tired or they were always asymmetrical. Mickey hasn’t done it in years, though. 

Debbie’s jaw drops. “No way! Can you do mine?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “You want me to?”

She nods, grabbing her hair brush and pulling her two hair ties out. She hands the supplies to Mickey and sits on the ground in front of him. 

“How’d you learn?” She asks. Mickey grabs the brush and gently combs through the knots in her hair, careful not to tug on her scalp. 

“My sister.”

Debbie hums, staying quiet for the most part as Mickey expertly weaves his fingers through her locks, making a just-perfectly-tight and aesthetically pleasing pair of braids. She’s half asleep by the time he’s done, so he pats her on the head and stands, holding his hand out. She accepts his help and crawls under her covers. 

“You good now, peppermint patty?”

Debbie nods, closing her eyes, and Mickey takes that as his cue to leave. He hopes the kid won’t spill about this, because as much as this stupid family is growing on him, he still needs to uphold is reputation as a badass. Can’t take the Milkovich out of him, no matter how hard everyone tries.

Mickey exits her room, jumping out of his skin at the sight of Ian standing outside her door. He gives Mickey a smile and pulls him into a hug, drunkenly swaying. Mickey sighs in relief and wraps his arms around Ian’s waist, squeezing him once before pulling back. He places his hand on Ian’s shoulder to steady him as the boy stumbles. 

“You are shitfaced, huh?”

“You are.. too sober. Wanna fix that?” Ian slurs, a smirk creeping on his face. Mickey rolls his eyes and leads him to his bedroom, pushing him down on the bed. “Oh la la, Mr. Milkovich, you gonna- ouch.”

Mickey pulls Ian’s shoes off his feet, tugging his jeans down and helping him out of his shirt. He takes the empty beer bottle from Ian’s hand and places it on his table. 

“Careful,” Ian mutters into the pillow. “You’re great. You’re amazing. I- you’re the best.”

Mickey ruffles his hair and stretches. “And you are gonna have a big ass hangover. Get some sleep.” Mickey pulls his blanket up to his chin and pats him on the cheek. “Gnite.”

“Night, Mick. I..”

Mickey cuts him off before he can say anything stupid. “I’ll come by in the morning.” He closes the door behind him, exhaling heavily and rubbing a hand down his face before making his way back downstairs. Kev is carrying Fiona to her room, and Carl is passed out in Lip’s sleeping embrace, curled up next to his brother with a face of peace. Mickey smirks a little and walks over to Veronica, leaning on the counter. 

“Did you drink?” She asks, grabbing her purse. 

“Not enough.”

She shrugs, taking a beer from the fridge and handing it to Mickey. He gives her a grateful smile and shoves it in his pocket. Kev joins the pair and wraps a heavy arm around Mickey’s shoulder. 

“Let’s get home.”

-

“Happy-“

“Say it and I’ll stab you.”

Ian pouts, resting his back on the lockers. “Fine, Debbie Downer.”

Mickey hardly spares him a glance as he shoves his textbook into his bag. “Don’t say that shit about your sister.”

“Stupid joke.” Ian shrugs his bag over his shoulder as they walk. “So, Kash is back-“

“Fuckin’ gross. He touch you?”

“No, Jesus. He didn’t touch me. I’m not some prepubescent girl pointing out molestation on a doll, Mick.”

“Don’t matter if you’re a chick, dude, it’s illegal. He does that shit again I’ll kill him.” Mickey nods in greeting at some thug a year older than him as they exit the school, grabbing a cigarette from his backpack and lighting it. 

“Let’s just drop it. I’m just saying, I don’t think you’ll be able to come work anymore.”

“Why the fuck not? How many people steal now, huh?”

Ian looks down and steps on a flower petal. “I dunno. Kash said he doesn’t want you there, but Linda makes the final decisions, so it depends. You nice to her?”

“She’s fuckin’ scary, man, ‘course I’m nice to her.”

“Good,” Ian suddenly stops once they’re a good distance from the school. “I knew you would flip shit if I got you a present, but I thought birthday sex would be good.”

Mickey takes a drag of his cig. “Oh, is that right?”

“Yes. Come on, I know a place.”

“God, you and your fuckin’ places, man.” Mickey grins, amused, and passes his cigarette off to Ian. They end up at the same  _ place  _ from before, the old abandoned warehouse, except this time, instead of climbing up onto the roof, Ian slides through a window and holds a hand out to Mickey. 

Once they’re inside, Mickey’s jaw drops at the scene. There’s a shitty little mattress pressed into the corner of the room, dressed in a red blanket with a handful of shitty dandelions thrown on the ground. Mickey wants to roll his eyes and call Ian a chick, but god, it’s pretty. 

“I couldn’t find roses, and-“

Mickey grabs him by the jaw, pulling his face toward him and kissing him passionately. They fall onto the bed, Ian crawling in between Mickey’s legs, and the two strip their clothes off in a hurry. 

It’s safe to say they spend a few hours up there, going through a whole pack of cigarettes and a half pack of condoms. Ian lays on his back after their umpteeth round, blessing his teenage stamina, and half listening to Mickey ramble on about something. 

“- and then, after they got married, the brides mom came up and was like ‘yo, turns out you two are actually siblings’ like how fucked up is that? What if she was pregnant? Little fuckin.. inbred baby running around. It’s insane, man. People are stupid.”

Ian pulls his phone out when it buzzes, and Mickey grunts as he sits up. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, inbred babies. You good to go back now?”

“Man, I don’t even know if I can walk.”

Ian smirks, standing up and tugging on his boxers, quickly dressing himself then moving down to help Mickey to the same. He places a kiss on his thigh when he helps the boy pull his jeans up, squeezing his hips apologetically. 

“Need a wheelchair?”

“Nah. Weed.”

Ian shuffles through his backpack and shakes his head. “Nope. I got some advil, though-“

Mickey grabs the container out of his hand, pouring out way too many pills and swallowing them dry. He chucks the empty bottle to the side and stretches, running a hand down his face and getting out of the building with Ian’s help, wincing with almost every step. 

“Ice bath. And I can get you some cream if it still hurts tomorrow.”

“Motherfucker, I’m gonna be on bed rest till my 18th.”

Ian raises his eyebrow and turns to face Mickey. “You complaining?”

“Meh. Second best birthday present.”

“What was your first?”

“Tetanus.”

They walk back to Mickey’s house, the pain meds eventually kicking in enough so the brunette doesn’t look like he just had a colonoscopy, though Ian teases him and walks with a limp until Mickey slaps him on the chest. He walks Mickey to the front door, opening it quietly and shoving Mickey through. 

“We goin’ again, red? Because-“

“SURPRISE!”

It takes Mickey approximately 3 seconds before he realizes these are not intruders, but his friends and neighbours. Within those three seconds, Mickey has a hand reaching for the knife in his pocket and his other arm holding Ian back, until he catches Kev’s eyes and relaxes. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

The group stares at him silently before they all start talking, wishing him a happy birthday and shoving gifts in his hands. He glares at them all the places the gifts onto the kitchen table, letting out a humourless laugh when he spots his sister in the crowd, a knowing smirk on her face. 

“Happy birthday, Mick.”

“Go fuck yourself,” he grunts, but accepts her hug and gift, patting her on the back before shoving her off. He slowly relaxes as time goes by, certainly enjoying free shit, but like he said before, he just doesn’t like birthdays. 

Fiona got him a box of hair supplies and a six pack, as well as a handmade card by Carl and Debbie. Lip got him a pack of cigarettes and a new t-shirt, Mandy got him a row of condoms and a rock she painted, and Ian shyly slides over a box with his name written neatly on it when it’s his turn to give a gift. 

Mickey opens the package, a smile creeping on his face. There’s a cute card tucked in the back that reads ‘do not open’, so Mickey pretends not to see it, and a disposable camera as well as a couple packs of film sitting on top of the card. Mickey runs his thumb over the camera and looks up, trying to contain the growing grin on his face. 

He makes his way around the table, hugging everyone, including Liam, who grips onto his shirt tightly and presses a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to his cheek. He pauses when he gets to Lip, but the boy laughs a little and pulls him into a stupid bro-hug. Ian secretly kisses a spot on Mickey’s neck, smiling into his skin. 

Veronica brings out a cake, Liam climbing onto Mickey’s lap, and the two blow his candles out together, Mickey sneaking glances as Ian throughout the rest of dessert. 

The party is amazing, unlike any other stupid birthday party he’s had before, and for once, he doesn’t feel as if his birthday is just a regular day, but one he can finally celebrate with his new family. 

It’s nice, but also bittersweet. Mickey’s life has been a ticking time bomb since he was born, constantly resenting and blowing up in front of him. This home easily takes place as his favourite, loving being around Kev and V, and even the overbearing Gallagher’s, and Mickey will admit it’s probably the best gift that he can see Mandy right now. But he knows this is all coming to an end, maybe not right now, but soon, and the suspense is driving him insane. 

Once the guests leave around midnight, Kev plays music quietly from the speakers in the living room, the three throwing trash into bags and tidying up the house. 

“I hate hosting parties,” Veronica huffs, pouring out a half empty and flat can of soda. Mickey twists his ring around and sits down on a chair at the dining table, grabbing someone’s beer and finishing it. He waits a few beats. 

“Uh, thank you guys. A lot.”

“It was hardly us. Ian planned the whole thing.” Kev shrugs. 

Mickey looks down at his hands to hide his blush. “Well, still. Thanks.”

Veronica throws the last of the garbage into her bag, tying it up and dropping it on the kitchen floor. She nods her head toward Mickey and sends a look Kev’s way. 

“Look, we couldn’t really afford anything big, especially since we just found out it was your birthday like a week ago, but we got you something,” she explains, sitting down next to him and fiddling with her fingers. Mickey looks suspiciously at the envelope placed in front of him. 

Kev takes a seat next to Veronica and grabs her hand, leaning his other one on his face as he chews on his bottom lip. Mickey slowly opens it, finding a folded paper shoved inside, and narrows his eyes as he unfolds it, his vision automatically connecting to the first three words written in a large font across the paper. 

_ Certification of Adoption _

Mickey’s eyes widen, and he drops the paper, looking up at Kev and V, who look about a second away from passing out. 

“It’s not- we don’t have the actual certificate yet because it takes a long time, so we printed one off the Internet, but we wanted to run it by you first because, like, if you don’t want to that’s totally fine, we can just keep fostering you, or- or if you don’t want to live here anymore that’s okay too, it’s all up to-“

“Jesus, shut up.” Mickey sniffs and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, barely able to contain himself from crying like a baby. Veronica places her hand on top of his and then all of a sudden, the dam breaks, and there are too many tears for him to blink away. She stands, pulling Mickey up and into an embrace, one hand wrapped around his shoulders and the other on the back of his head. 

“You don’t need to cry, baby. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know it’s okay,” Mickey mumbles wetly. It’s the biggest relief he’s felt since he kissed Ian. He wants to grab that stupid time bomb ticking away in the back of his brain and throw it under the L, letting it destroy itself and leave him alone. Veronica pulls back from the hug and cups his face, wiping at his tears with her thumbs. Kev joins the two in standing. 

“I’m sorry, did we make you upset?” Kev asks, the dumb golden retriever he is. Mickey shakes his head and moves toward him and presses his face into Kev’s chest, wrapping his arms tightly around the man.

Kev thinks back to a couple months ago, when the kid would snap at him and slap him away every time he tried to touch him. He gives Veronica a panicked look and gently holds Mickey, rubbing his hands up and down his back. 

“So?”

Mickey pulls away, wiping at his puffy and red face. He gives Veronica a small smile and nods. 

“Yeah, that would be fucking sick.”

He stares down at the paper as the two make excited noises and grab his hands, pulling him around the living room to the beat of the music. He’s exhausted from all the sex and crying, but he doesn’t care, he’s happy just to spend time with his new (legal) parents. 

Parents. 

Wow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM TIRED OF EVERYONE THINKING MICKEY IS DUMB. that’s my angry rant. look, be honest here, if i made a twitter account would u guys follow it LOL i just have so much to say and don’t want to plague up my notes. lmk. hope you’re all doing well and keep in mind this is not the last chapter! i have many many plans for this story so don’t you fret, or get your hopes up, i dunno. love u all :)


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: bipolar behaviour and mistreatment  
> I apologize for not updating in a while, but since I don’t have bipolar, I had to do quite a bit of research on this topic to make sure I was portraying it in a non offensive way. Still, if anyone wants to give me some feedback on the way I handled this topic, please feel free to do so. Hope you enjoy :)

Mickey doesn’t air out the news of his adoption, prompting to keep it quiet until everything is decided. He’s still convinced that Kev and V are gonna change their minds, so he’s pretty much walking on eggshells around them, offering his help with anything he’s capable of and being the nicest version of himself. It’s driving him insane. 

Still, there’s the small part of him that wants to tell everyone. Wants to grab Terry by the shirt collar and tell him he has someone new and so much better he can call his dad, wants to stand on the highest building in Chicago and tell the world he finally is getting on a family, but most importantly, he just wants to tell Ian. 

He doesn’t, however, because though when the world is spinning and Ian is his only grapple sometimes, he sticks to his rules. Plus, the boy is acting different lately. Constantly chattering about one thing or another, trying to drag Mickey up at the asscrack of dawn to go on runs with him, and god, the biggest part-

His sex drive. Mickey is convinced Ian is some kind of immortal being. Ian can go 10 times in one night without flinching, and even though Mickey really doesn’t have a problem with it most nights, it’s getting out of hand. Mickey starts waking up to Ian latching onto his neck and laying on top of him, having snuck through his window in the middle of the night, and he starts getting texts from the boy when he’s in class, trying to drag him away each period. 

Mickey doesn’t exactly know what’s going on with him, but hey, at least he’s getting action. Still, it’s a little annoying, especially now, when his 70 year old teacher is stuttering through some sentence about angles. He hates math. 

_ From: Ian _

mick

_ To: Ian _

what

_ From: Ian _

wanna go again 

Mickey scowls down at his phone, quickly looking back up at the teacher. He scribbles down the bullet point note on the board and returns his attention back to the needy redhead blowing up his messages. 

_ To: Ian _

christ gallagher that’s like 5 times today

plus the 4 last night

_ From: Ian _

ur complaining??

_ To: Ian _

my ass is

_ From: Ian _

bathroom in 5 

-

Mickey tugs the hoodie string tighter, shoving his hands in his pockets as he opens the door to the Alibi with his hip. In one of their multiple rounds today, Ian must have forgotten his ‘no mark’ rule, because his neck looks similar to one of a choking victim. Hell, he’s been choked out before, and it hasn’t looked this bad. 

“Hey, Mick.” Kev waves from behind the bar. Mickey drops his bag onto the ground and slides onto a stool, concealing his wince by looking up at the signs hanging over the bar. He hasn’t been in here a lot, but ever since more publicity to the bar has been granted, Kev and Veronica have been working more hours, meaning Mickey has the option to come hang out for a couple hours after school each day. 

He doesn’t always come. The men in here are pigs and regularly make comments about Veronicas body, or hateful comments for things they see on the TV. Still, they’re amusing to listen to when they bicker, but most days, Mickey just can’t handle it. 

“You good, kid?”

Mickey turns his head to a man, Tommy, he thinks, who’s staring at him with an eyebrow raised. Mickey narrows his eyes and nods. 

“Yeah. Fine.”

“You’re looking a little frazzled.”

Mickey runs a hand through his hair. Sure, he knows he probably looks insane, but with no time to do anything except bang Ian and hang out with his foster parents, he hasn’t had much opportunity to clean his face or shower recently.

“I’m fine, Jesus.”

Tommy holds his hands up defensively. Mickey accepts the glass of soda Kev slides his way, sipping on it while he pulls his homework out. He’a halfway through his second worksheet when he feels someone looking over his shoulder. 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you want?”

An older man, with hair down to his chin and a scowl on his face, stands behind him. 

“You’re in my spot.”

“Yeah, well, thank god there are other seats,” Mickey spits, turning back to his homework. 

“Don’t know why you let runts in here, Kev, but this kid is fucking annoying.” The man hops onto the stool next to Mickey, waiting a minute before turning to him. “Wait. You’re that Milkovich boy, aren’t you?”

“Leave him alone, Frank,” Veronica warns, grabbing a class and filling it with beer. She slides it over to the man as he starts talking again. 

“Your father- genius. Kind of an asshole but that’s besides the point. Where is he now?”

“Rotting in fuckin’ jail, hopefully.”

Frank groans loudly and gestures with his hands. “You too! What ever happened to respect? A father is the head of the household, but constantly, his kids will disrespect his name, dragging him through the mud. Well, guess what, kid, you wouldn’t exist without your father giving blood sweat and tears into you. Kids these days need to gain some goddamn respect for their elders.”

Kev looks like he’s about to step in, but Mickey stands instead, his eyes hard as he shoves his homework in his bag. 

“He lost my respect when he started using me as a punching bag when I was 3, or when he beat on my pregnant mom, or when he held a gun to someone I cared about and pulled the trigger. You know fucking nothing.” He throws his bag over his shoulder and glares. “But hey- take your fucking seat back.”

“Mick-“

Mickey’s out the door by the time Kev calls after him. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but by the time the smoke clears from his head, he’s standing outside the Gallagher’s house, his fist raised as he bangs on the door. He’s still breathing heavily when Carl opens the door, concern etched in his face. 

It’s only when he hears yelling from inside that he realizes it really wasn’t a good time to show up. 

“Fiona-“

“No! You made a really fucking stupid decision, Ian, and now you have to smarten up and fix it.”

“I can get a better job!”

Mickey furrows his eyebrows and steps inside, Carl silently closing the door behind him. 

“What the hell is going on with you?” Lip asks. Ian laughs humourlessly and shakes his head. 

“Nothing’s going on with me, Lip! I’m sorry for not wanting to stay at a place where I was disrespected.”

“Get your shit together, Ian. This isn’t a joke.” Fiona glares. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is pulled in a messy ponytail, and Mickey looks to the side to see Debbie holding a whining Liam. 

“Hey, how bout you guys go stay at my place, alright?” Mickey grabs Carl by the shoulder and kneels down. The older kids are continuing their screaming match, so Debbie and Carl share a look before nodding, taking Liam over to the house next door. Mickey drops his backpack on the ground and walks into the kitchen, wincing at the volume. 

“We need the money, Ian!” Fiona screams. Ian rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll get money for the bills, Fiona, but you can’t expect me to keep living like this.”

“Keep living like what? Bouncing around, sneaking out, doing god knows what- Ian, have you even looked at your fucking grades? You’re not going to graduate! Then what?”

Ian doesn’t even notice Mickey, his breathing picking up. “Then I get a job.”

“No! Because you quit!”

Lip grabs Fiona’s arm, trying to calm the woman down. “You need a job, Ian, and it was really stupid of you to quit.”

“I make fucking $9 an hour!”

Fiona’s about to start yelling again, but Lip pushes her toward the living room, giving Mickey a look. 

“You’re acting exactly like mom.” Fiona says, before grabbing her coat and speeding out of the house. Mickey doesn’t know much about their mother, but from the way Ian’s face immediately falls, he assumes she wasn’t a very good person. 

“You know she didn’t-“ Lip starts. 

“Go fuck yourself.” Ian runs upstairs, slamming the bedroom door angrily behind him. Lip exhales heavily and rests his elbows against the counter. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Mickey asks, his voice a cool contrast against the tense environment. Lip grunts a little. 

“Ian quit his job. He’s been acting batshit crazy, Mick. I don’t know what’s going on.” He rubs his fingers over his closed eyes, taking a second to breathe. “Has he been different with you?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“Shit. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“It’s fine. I- uh, I’ll go check on him?”

Lip nods, grabbing a beer from the fridge and opening it with shaky hands. He takes a long sip and exhales, so Mickey takes that as his cue and walks up the stairs, knocking on Ian’s door with his forefinger and toeing it open. Ian’s standing up, throwing all his things into his backpack, and Mickey closes the door behind him before stepping in. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m- I need to get out.”

“Red, sit down.” Mickey grabs the bag and hurls in on the floor, taking the shirt from Ian’s grip and tossing it next to the bed. Ian slowly sits, his legs bouncing up and down, until Mickey pushes down on his shoulder. 

“I’m not like her.”

“I ain’t saying that. I don’t even know who she is.” Ian lays down with Mickey’s pressure, the older boy starting to undo his shoes and tug them off his feet. It’s familiar. 

“I’m not- I’m not crazy, Mick.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“Then why are you treating me like I’m some fucking child?” Ian kicks his foot out at Mickey, the latter gripping onto his ankle to stop him. They stare at each other for a beat. 

“Don’t fuckin’ kick me.” He takes his own shoes off and climbs into bed next to Ian. Even though the redhead wants to push Mickey away and continue packing, he can’t find it in him to do it, so he allows Mickey to adjust the blankets until they’re both covered. 

After a few beats, Mickey speaks. “So.”

“What?” Ian asks. He instinctively rests his head on Mickey’s chest, cuddling into the man. Mickey places a hand on his back and fingers patterns into his oversized sweater. 

“Obviously something is wrong. But I ain’t gonna force you into some gross therapy shit, so you don’t gotta talk to me ‘bout it, but just tell me you can handle this?”

Ian breathes in. Mickey smells like everything that reminds him of home, and it’s a small crack in the building static of his mind. Eventually, he opens his mouth and responds, “I can handle it.”

Mickey pats his back twice, in a weird sort of ‘bro’ way. “Good. If that changes, though, you tell me what I need to do.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

  
  


Ian nods against him. “Promise.” He moves closer to Mickey and relaxes, his body tingling at the touch of the boy. “Mickey?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we?”

Mickey closes his eyes. The dreaded question. “Fuck you mean?”

“Like..” Ian grabs Mickey’s free hand, fiddling with his fingers. “Are we a couple?”

Mickey laughs a little. “Sure. We can be a gay ass couple. Go on stupid rainbow dates and have our own little pride parade follow us around,” he grunts. Ian rolls his eyes and tugs at his ring. 

“I’m serious, Mick.”

Mickey darts his tongue over his bottom lip and brings the hand on his back up to Ian’s hair. “Yeah, Ian, we’re a couple.”

Ian realizes it’s the first time Mickey’s said his name. No stupid nicknames, no ‘Gallagher’ bullshit, but his real, true name. He oftly likes the way it sounds in Mickey’s signature drawled Chicago accent. 

“Good.”

Ian forgets about the bag, forgets about his stupid job and the pedophillic boss. Just breathes in the love seeping through Mickey’s skin and tries his hardest to ignore the blinding energy surging through his skin, because Mickey’s all he has at the end of the day. 

“I’m gettin’ adopted.”

Ian doesn’t want to move, but he does anyway, sitting up and resting one arm beside Mickey. “What? By Kev and V?”

“Yeah.” Mickey smiles. 

“No shit! That’s fucking awesome, Mick. Holy shit.” 

Mickey brings his hand up and ruffles Ian’s hair, catching his jaw on his way down. “You’re gonna have’ta get used to seeing my ugly mug all the time.”

Ian snorts, throwing his leg over Mickey’s hip and sitting on the boy. He presses his lips onto Mickey’s, then down on his cheek, stopping after he reaches his neck, humming a little as he admires his work. 

“I think this calls for celebration.”

Mickey shakes his head. He pushes Ian off of him gently, tugging the boy closer to his body and throwing his arms around him. “No. This is good, right? Like you said before. We don’t need to rush.” He tugs on Ian’s hoodie, running his palm over the threads. He loves Ian’s clothes, loves sneaking them out and wearing them under his coat, concealed to everyone else but warming his body up, smelling like wood and comfort. 

Ian frowns, but returns his face to its original position, coaxing his leg over Mickey’s and closing his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

-

Ian stays in that weird floaty phase for a couple weeks. In those couple weeks, the two have sex way too many times, Mickey gets closer and closer to actually being adopted, and Ian dips out of the house and disappears for two days. It takes that single screw up for everyone in the Gallagher family to realize something is actually wrong. 

Fiona drives around town and looks for him, but then again, she has a job and three kids to take care of, so eventually she throws her keys on the table, mumbling something about how Ian’s a grown boy and can take care of himself. Mickey knows it’s her exhaustion talking, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing rocks at Lip’s window and dragging the teenager out of his room to hotwire a car with him. 

“You really care about him, huh?” Lip points out, sometime after their 4th hour of driving. Mickey dials Ian’s number for the millionth time, his grip on the wheel tight as they weave through back alleys and street corners. 

“Fuck off.”

“I’m glad he has someone like you.”

“Christ, Lip, I’m not going fucking soft.”

“Just saying.” 

Mickey swears when the phone goes to voicemail again, the familiar beep making Mickey want to smash his phone into the ground. Lip senses his growing anger and suggests he drive for the next couple hours. 

“We think it’s bipolar.”

“Bi- what now? Ain’t that like a gay term or something?”

“That’s bisexual.” Lip shakes his head, flashing the brights on the car at a couple hookers on a corner. When he can’t find Ian in the crowd, he waves apologetically, driving away from them. “Bipolar. Like- manic depression, pretty much.”

“Fuck does that mean?”

“Really high highs followed by really low lows. Our mom had it.”

“Is it a disease?” Mickey asks, not even bothering to hide his concern. 

“Mental disease- or, illness, I guess.”

“Well can he be fixed?”

“Not really. He can go to a doctor and start on meds, but it really is all dependent on his state. And if he takes them. Monica never took her meds, until she snapped and slit her wrists at our thanksgiving last year.”

“Shit. That’s really fucked.”

“Yeah. Messed Debs and Carl up real good.”

“Those fuckin’ kids should get free therapy for life.”

They drive through every uncovered part of the city, calling out for Ian and asking hookers and construction workers if they’ve seen him. When Lip sighs painfully and says they should call it a night, Mickey freezes, suddenly remembering the one place they haven’t looked. 

The warehouse. 

Mickey almost tuck and rolls out of the car when they arrive, rushing through the window and breathing for the first time since Ian disappeared. The boy is curled up on the mattress from weeks prior, shivering in the cold. Mickey kneels down and shakes the boy. 

“Ian?”

He grumbles, pulling his legs closer to his chest. Mickey checks his pulse on instinct and grabs his phone, throwing it to Lip. “Call Kev. He might have hypothermia.”

Mickey takes his jacket off and pulls Ian into sitting, helping the boy dress in his coat and rubbing his hands up and down Ian’s arms. The kid looks miserable and exhausted. 

“Hey, buddy. It’s okay. We got you.” Lip joins the pair after hanging up, resting his palm against Ian’s cheek. Ian sniffs and closes his eyes. 

“Why did you run, man?”

Ian stares blankly at the wall. Mickey shakes his head and gently nudges Lip away, holding Ian’s face in his hands, slowly getting the younger boy to look at him. 

“Why the fuck did you run?”

Ian drops his eyes, looking down at the ground in front of them. His head is heavy in Mickey’s hold, and Mickey can’t help but feel like this is his fault. Like- maybe he didn’t give Ian enough sex, or sneak out with him when he wanted to run. This could’ve been easily avoided, yet it wasn’t, because Mickey couldn’t bother to do good for other people. 

“Ian?”

Ian blinks. Mickey wants to strangle him, demand to be given back the boy he first met, who never took shit and constantly had a smile on his face; or even the boy he was 3 days ago, full of energy and happiness and a bit crazy, yeah, but he was Ian. Now he’s nothing. 

“You fucking told me you would come to me if you need help!” 

Lip grabs Mickey’s arms and pulls him away, grunting as Mickey struggles in his hold. 

“You fucking lied! You lied and ran like a fucking coward!”

Lip pins him to the wall of the warehouse, the gross dust sending Mickey into a coughing fit. 

“Calm the fuck down, Mick. You’re scaring him.”

That knocks him into his senses. Ian is shaking, and it doesn’t look like it’s because he’s cold. Mickey takes a couple deep breaths and pushes Lip off of him, running a hand through his hair. Kev peeks through the window and frowns. 

“This place is a mess, holy shit.”

He walks over to Ian, tilting the boy’s head up and sighing. “Hey, kiddo. You cold?” Ian doesn’t respond, so Kev grabs his fingers and holds them in both his hands, bringing them up to his mouth and blowing some warm air on them. “There we go. You wanna get up?”

Ian slowly nods, accepting Kev’s help to stand. He gets him into the truck and looks back at Mickey and Lip. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Lip asks, his hand placed on Mickey's shoulder. 

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s hypothermia.”

Lip gestures for him to come closer. “I think.. if we bring him to a hospital, they’re gonna put him in the ward.”

“Ward?” Mickey asks, shoving Lip’s hand off him. “Like- like a psych ward? Fuck no. He’s staying here.”

“Mick, these things can get really out of hand. We need to get him safe-“

“He’ll be safe. With us.” Mickey turns. “Right?”

Lip is quiet for a second. “We don’t have somebody to keep watch of him all the time. They can keep him there until he settles down.”

They end up fighting for a couple minutes before Mickey realizes that at the end of the day, Ian does need help. He’s paralyzed in the backseat of Kev’s truck, fingers shaking even though there is hot air blowing at maximum speed. Mickey lets out a shaky breath and quiets down. 

“Fine. Just- can I talk to him first?”

Kev nods, watching as Mickey goes to the truck and climbs in the back seat. He knocks Lip with his shoulder and nods toward them. “They’re really good friends, huh?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Back in the car, Mickey grabs Ian’s hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the skin. “Ian?”

The redhead grunts a little. 

“I- you’re gonna go to a hospital for a little bit. They’re gonna make you better, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Ian slowly turns to look at him, sniffling. Mickey gives him a small smile and leans forward, kissing his forehead gently, his thumbs still stroking over Ian’s knuckles. 

“I’ll come visit you if I can.”

“Mick..”

“Yeah?”

Ian presses his cheek onto Mickey’s shoulder. “I love you.”

Mickey panics for a second. Those words- the ones he’s obsessed over in his head, tried to forget, the ones he’s forced down his throat whenever he looks at Ian. The boy has worked his way into Mickey’s heart- with that dumb smile and his soft eyes. Mickey can’t even pretend he doesn’t feel the same. 

“I know.” Mickey squeezes his hand. “I love you too.”

And as Kev drives away, picking up Fiona and taking them to the emergency room, Mickey settles back into his room, only the fading hickies and the scent of wood indicating that Ian was ever really there. 

The boy would be okay. He has to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year! i hope you all are doing well. now, i start school on monday, so i have a feeling my updating is gonna slow down. however, i made a twitter! feel free to keep up with my eccentric personality on there rather than having to read these authors notes ;)
> 
> https://twitter.com/mxckeymilk0vich


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a slur and a panic attack (i am part of the lgbt community so i felt comfortable writing it)

* * *

Mickey has been weird ever since Ian left for the hospital. Since he’s a minor, he’s not allowed to visit the boy, so that only adds to his weird personality shift. He’s been a weird mix of too much energy and anger, and it’s starting to cause a disruption in the household. 

“Mickey?”

“Jesus, what?”

Veronica raises an eyebrow. Mickey exhales slowly and fixes his look, leaning back against the counter, hoping she doesn’t smack him for his attitude. 

“We need to talk to you.”

Mickey slots his eye in between her and Kev, who’s already sitting at the table, holding something tightly in his oversized hands. Mickey slowly walks to the table with her, tensing when she grabs his hand. 

“Now, we know you’ve been on edge for the last little while. And I don’t know if it’s because of the adoption or... or Ian, but-“

“Not ‘cause of fuckin’ Ian,” Mickey grumbles. Veronica clears her throat and rubs her thumb over his knuckles, toying with his ring. 

“But we have to tell you something.”

Mickey feels his heart catch in his throat. Fuck. This is when they tell him they can’t go through with the adoption. That they realized they were too short on money and since Mickey is now unemployed there just isn’t enough income. Mickey is preparing to defend himself when Kev holds his hand out, placing an object in his hand. 

A pregnancy test. 

Correction- a  _ positive  _ pregnancy test. 

It takes Mickey a second to register what it means. He studies the stick, letting go of Veronica to hold it in both hands. This is so much worse. They need the money for the new baby, obviously, and Mickey is just sucking it all up by being here. He should start packing now. 

“So?”

Mickey looks up, breathing in deeply. Veronica is gripping Kev’s hand tightly, something resembling a smile painting her face, and Kev is staring at him expectedly. 

“Uh, congrats.” Mickey stands. “I.. I’ll call Laura. Get my stuff out of here by tonight.”

He goes to walk to his room but a hand on his chest stops him. Kev pushes him back gently and furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean, out of here?”

“I mean, you two barely make enough to support yourselves, let alone me and a baby. I get it. Bio kids are first priority.”

“Mickey, no-“

“You’re telling me you think there’s enough money to raise a newborn kid to 18 and also support my ass?” Mickey starts. He doesn’t know what snaps in him, maybe it’s the exhaustion (he can no longer sleep soundly without Ian’s arms around him), or maybe the shock, but suddenly, this is a fight he wants to win. 

“Don’t worry about the money.” Kev stands in front of him, a frown on his face. His shaggy hair falls into his eyes and Mickey doesn’t even blink before speaking again. 

“No. I understand. I’m not a kid, guys. You don’t need to adopt me, or- or pretend you’re not gonna devote your entire lives to this kid. I don’t give a fuck. Have the baby. I’m fine on my own.”

Kev grabs his wrist before he can move, but the move triggers something in Mickey. He whips his head around to glare at him, but stumbles a bit when he’s met with Kev’s soft, concerned eyes. 

“We want both of you.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t get everything you want, man-bun.”

Veronica stands. “Hell no. You don’t get to tell us what we do or don’t want. We promised to adopt you, and baby or no baby, that’s gonna happen. You are just as much our kid as this baby is.”

“You don’t fucking want me!”

Veronica freezes at the anger and volume in Mickey’s voice. Mickey wants to take her fear as a signal to calm down, but Kev’s goddamn hand is still wrapped around his wrist, and all he wants to do is fight. 

Milkovich instincts, hey?

“You don’t want me! And guess what, that’s totally fine! Nobody fucking does. Not my dad, not you guys, not Ian or- any of those goddamn Gallagher’s. You two go play house, alright, and I’ll get the fuck out of your faces.”

“Jesus Mickey, what the fuck is this about?”

Mickey turns to glare at Kev. “Now you wanna play dumb? You are going to be fucking homeless if you have this kid! Nobody wants to hire a fucking felon, and the one good job I had, I blew. So whatever. Have your kid and be the perfect family. See if I give a shit.”

Veronica shakes her head. “Stop with the self deprecating shit, Mickey, and tell us what the hell this is really about. Because I know damn well how much you love taking care of those Gallagher kids, and I know you would love to be a brother again. So what is going on?”

“You can’t want me!”

Kev matches his volume. “Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m fucking gay!”

Shit. 

The room goes silent. Mickey darts his eyes toward the door, another stupid instinct to run, but no- he can’t. He hasn’t slept in a week, and he’s thirsty for a fight, maybe the feeling of getting punched in the face and walking away a winner. It’s been the only way he’s been able to prove himself so far, and now that the cat’s out of the bag, he has to fight before Kev calls Terry’s guys to come finish the job.

“Mick…”

“Yeah, that’s right! What? You wanna hit me? Good ol’ fagbash? Go right ahead.” Mickey is almost hysterical, laughing as his face flushes red. Kev is staring at Veronica over his shoulder and he just wants him to throw a punch already. 

Mickey detaches his wrist from Kev’s grip, using both his hands to push at the man roughly. Kev stumbles back and raises his hands, and Mickey holds his breath, waiting for the blow, but Kev simply holds his hands up defensively. 

That won’t do. Mickey shoves at him again, breath coming in quick as Veronica says something to him that sounds underwater. 

“Hit me!” Mickey screams. His fist collides with Kev’s chest, and the man doesn’t even clench his fingers, just taking the punches. “Fucking hit me!”

Mickey tastes salt before he realizes he’s crying, and that’s just embarrassing, so he throws another punch somewhere near Kev’s face, but he catches his fist, holding his arm. 

There’s a couple beats where Kev just looks at him, and that’s only when it hits him. Kev doesn’t want a fight. He never has. The puppy-like man with his middle part and beefed up body has never once wanted a fight. Mickey is desperate for someone to just reach out and put him down, because that’s all he’s ever been given. Beatings and punishments and everything awful wrapped into one. But Kev has never treated Mickey wrong. And he’s now just realizing that he has severely fucked up. 

Mickey stumbles forward, but Kev catches his body, one arm around his waist and the other catching his head, pulling the boy near his chest. Mickey sobs, breath catching in his throat as he coughs and gags and cries like a baby. 

His knees eventually buckle, but Kev is there, maneuvering the two until they’re on the ground, Mickey’s face pressed into his shoulder. He cups the back of his neck and rubs circles onto his back, shushing him gently. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I’m sorry-“ Mickey hiccups, fists clenching and unclenching. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

Kev moves his head and presses his lips to the side of Mickey’s head, pulling the kid in closer and rocking the two of them. Mickey squeezes his eyes shut and from his position trapped between Kev’s legs, he finally starts to calm down a little. Kev doesn’t let up once. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re okay, Mick. Everything’s good.”

Mickey goes limp in his hold, and Kev takes a full two minutes without moving before tilting his head down to get a look at the kid, who’s breathing has turned even and is fast asleep. He sighs in relief and rests against the wall, keeping his hand on the small of Mickey’s back and looking up at Veronica. 

“This kid needs some serious fucking help.”

“V-“

“No, Kev. I’m serious. Therapy. As soon as possible. I don’t even know what the hell he’s been through, but I don’t want to. He needs to get help.”

“He doesn’t want therapy. You know that.”

Veronica stares at him. “I don’t want our new baby left alone with him if he’s acting like this.”

“Veronica.” Kev shakes his head. He rarely ever goes the drastic measure of saying her full name, but this time, she needs to listen to him. “He’s fucking scared. Terrified. Throwing him in some therapists office isn’t gonna do anything to help.”

Veronica pinched her temple and breathes deeply. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

“Well, first, he’s gonna sleep until he can have a full conversation without lashing out. Then, we’re gonna talk. We can take it from there.”

She takes a couple seconds. “Okay.”

Kev dislodges himself from Mickey and stands, using his gym training to lift the kid up and take him to his room. He lays Mickey down on the bed and places a kiss on his forehead before closing his blinds and turning the lights off. 

-

When Mickey wakes up, he’s sore and confused. It takes him a full 10 minutes to realize the air in the house is tense and it’s his fault. He sits up in his bed and rubs at his face, eventually pulling himself up and into the bathroom, splashing cool water over his flushed face. He checks the clock on his phone and sees a missed text. 

_ From: Lip _

Hey, so Fi went to go see Ian today and they said he will probably be out by next week :)

Finally, some good fucking news. Mickey darts his tongue over his bottom lip and tenses when he hears a noise in the kitchen. It’s only about 4 pm, so it makes sense that everyone’s home, but still, it’s scary. 

_ To: Lip _

thts good 

He waits a couple seconds. 

_ To: Lip _

hey if i needed a place to sleep for a day or two could i stay w you

The response is immediate. 

_ From: Lip _

Of course man. What’s up?

_ To: Lip _

nothing yet 

_ From: Lip _

Okay, that sounds very suspicious but I’ll let it slide. Just call me if you’re coming and I’ll sneak you in. 

_ To: Lip _

thanks man

Mickey slides his phone in his pocket and tiptoes back to his room, freezes when he hears footsteps, and debating whether he should run or fight. This won’t end well. 

“Mickey?”

Mickey holds his breath as Kev steps in his view. The man is holding something behind his back, and Mickey feels his chest tighten, knowing with past experiences that the object behind his fathers back was a gun. Mickey winces as Kev’s hand slowly comes out, but all of a sudden, the threat is gone. 

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

Mickey stares at the rainbow flag resting in his hands. Kev gives him a stupid grin and holds it out to him. 

“We wanna show you something.”

Kev leads Mickey to the kitchen, where there are decorations surrounding the area, with rainbow paper plates and napkins and party hats and everything that’s ever been in Mickey’s nightmares. 

“This has to be a joke…”

“You said you’re gay, right? I didn’t hear that wrong?” Kev suddenly looks nervous, taking his hand away from Mickey and rubbing the back of his neck. Mickey looks around at the room and scoffs. 

“I’m not this fucking gay.”

Veronica frowns. “Mickey. This is a celebration. A coming out party, if you will. We saw it on Facebook.”

He flinches when Kev puts a party hat on his head, trying to take it off, but Veronica swats at his hand. 

“I don’t really know how to have a coming out party,” Kev admits once they’re all seated at the table, picking at the rainbow cake Veronica made and staring at Mickey nervously, as if he’s about to erupt. “Should I play Lady Gaga or something? Like, Born This Way or-“

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Mickey shoves his hands over his face. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

“Wait! I can dance!” Kev stands. Mickey grabs his hand and tugs him back down on the chair, shaking his head adamantly. 

“Can we just- pretend I never said anything?”

Veronica turns to him, her gaze shifting to something serious. “Mickey, be honest, has anybody actually celebrated this with you?”

“No, because if I said anything before, I would get fucking hate crimed,” Mickey grunts, leaning onto the back of his chair. Veronica nods. 

“Exactly. So let us do it.”

“I don’t need a fucking pride parade.” 

“Too damn bad. Because we spent the last two hours decorating this place, so you are gonna like it.”

Mickey exhales, shoving a piece of rainbow cake into his mouth. As much as he hates this, he has to admit, the cake tastes pretty good.

They end up spending the rest of the evening listening to music and drinking and playing a couple games of ‘guess the gay celebrity’. Kev slides him a couple men’s underwear catalogs and gives him an over exaggerated wink.

“Kevin!”

“What?” He turns to Veronica. “This is to make up for the Playboys at Christmas.”

“This is, by far, the faggiest shit I have ever done. And that includes sex with another man.”

Veronica leans forward on the couch and rests her chin in her hand. “That’s kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

“No. Fuck no. It was a joke. Total virgin here!”

“Mickey,” she exhales. “I’m serious.”

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut, but Veronica keeps going. 

“We want honesty. And we want to know you’re being safe.”

“Honesty? You want me to come home and be like, ‘hey guys, just fucked a dude, how was your day?”

Kev shrugs. “Well, I mean, not exactly, but sure.”

“I mean more.. we want you to know you can come to us. With questions, or concerns, or worries, or happy news, anything. We are here for you, Mick, and we want to share your excitement about the things that make you happy.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Do you really want to hear about all my shit?”

“Yes. If it makes you happy, we want to know.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “You need to get a hobby.”

Veronica frowns. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you like?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

Mickey keeps glancing toward Kev, almost nervously, so Veronica takes the hint and drops the topic. She reaches out and grips his hand, bringing it near her face and squeezing it. 

“I just… you do know we still plan on going through with the adoption, right?”

Mickey’s shoulders relax at her words. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because it doesn’t matter who’s biological or who’s not, you are both gonna be our children. And you’re gonna be the best big brother ever.”

Mickey can’t help but let out a smile. He’s feeling overwhelmed, but surprisingly, it’s in a good way. They continue the party for a while until they retire, Veronica and Mickey sitting at the table and Kev resting on the couch. 

“So…”

Mickey looks toward Kev, who’s currently staring at the magazine he gave Mickey with his eyes narrowed, obviously trying to see an appeal in these men. He huffs out a laugh and takes his party hat off, turning his attention back to Veronica. 

“Are you seeing anybody?”

Mickey looks down at his hands. “Uh..”

“You can be honest.”

“Yeah? I think.”

“You think?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“Well, yeah. It was mostly just, uh, sex, for a while, then it started getting all serious. I don’t know.”

She smiles softly. “I want to meet him. You should bring him here for dinner one night.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

God, the things he would do to have Ian with him right now. Ian would hold him tightly and whisper about how he’s proud of him, how he’s strong and brave and everything Mickey doesn’t think he is, and then they would probably have mind erupting sex that leaves him unable to walk for multiple days. He would kill for that. 

But he can’t. So he settles back in the dining chair and picks at his fingernail, taking a minute before speaking again. 

“I’m happy for you.”

“What?”

“The baby. You deserve it. You baby me enough already, it’ll be good to have a real kid to boss around.” He smirks a little. She gasps in an overly fake way. 

“I don’t boss nobody around.”

“You threw me literally the gayest party I have ever heard of, and told me I had to enjoy it. That’s pretty bossy.”

Veronica glared at him playfully. “Watch it.”

He laughs, bringing his hand up and scratching at his eyebrow. “I’m serious. This kid is gonna grow up with the best parents they could have.”

Her gaze turns humble, and she nods slowly and look at her husband, who’s now holding the magazine right next to his eyeball, staring right at the model with a frown on his face. “Yeah. And the best brother who’s gonna look out for her.”

“Her?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure yet, but I can feel it. Instincts, you know?”

Mickey looks at her with his eyes soft. This day has been an emotional wreck, but he knows now, there is nobody better built to support him than the two people in this room (and the one in a mental hospital). 

“Mickey, I don’t understand how you like this. I just keep thinking of their assholes and it makes me feel gross.”

Their moment is interrupted by Kev, who puts the magazine down with a huff and swings his arm over the back of the couch. 

“You’re not supposed to like it, honey, or else that would put me in a really awkward position.” Veronica rolls her eyes. 

“How does it even work?”

Mickey raises both his eyebrows and checks his phone as it vibrates. 

_ From: Lip _

Do you still need a room tonight?

Mickey looks around at his foster parents, who are now arguing about what’s appropriate or not to ask their newly outed gay kid. He scoffs and shakes his head fondly before typing back. 

_ To: Lip _

no im okay

And he is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii hope you all are well! drop a follow on my twitter @mxckeymilk0vich if you want to talk or something! love u all :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of abuse. just kind of sad lol

Lip and Fiona pick Ian up the following Sunday, treating him with kid gloves and talking down to him as if he’s a child throwing a tantrum. It takes Ian approximately 4 ‘how are you feeling buddy?’s and 2 ‘are you sure you don’t want to eat, sweetface?’s before he snaps and demands to be dropped off at Mickey’s house. 

They let him go, because Lip gives him a knowing look and sides with him just this once (they both know he’ll go it again soon; anything to make Ian smile like he does when he talks of Mickey). 

He knocks on the door, but when there’s no answer, he fiddles with his keychain and grabs the right one, sliding it in and twisting the knob. He quietly closes the door behind him, toeing his shoes off and putting his coat up. He pads across the house and up the stairs, knocking on Mickey’s door gently, holding his breath. 

Ian doesn’t hear anything from inside, so he opens the door, frowning when there’s nobody there. All he wants is to feel Mickey’s arms around him, but since he can’t have the real thing, he digs through his closet and pulls his shirt off, replacing it with Mickey’s hoodie, inhaling deeply before sliding under his covers. 

Ian feels his eyes droop closed, and he snuggles closer with Mickey’s pillow, breathing calmly until he drifts off to sleep. 

-

Mickey arrives home with Kev and V, going to unlock the door, but frowning when it’s already open. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion but relaxes when he sees Ian’s jacket hanging up, dismissing Kev’s worry with a wave of his hand and going upstairs. He smiles softly at the sight of Ian in his bed, pulling his jeans off and locking his door, then moves and climbs into bed next to Mickey. 

“Hm? Oh- what-“

Mickey shushes him, flicking the lamp off and nuzzling his face at the back of Ian’s neck. Ian hums and twists over so they are face to face, bringing his hand up and resting it on Mickey’s cheek, smiling tiredly. 

“Hi, Mick.”

“Sorry I’m late.” 

Ian cranes his neck and kisses Mickey gently, rubbing his thumb over his cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Mickey moves closer, pressing his face into Ian’s chest. “You smell like me.”

Ian grips the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair and throwing his leg over Mickey. He lets out a relaxed sigh and closes his eyes. 

“How are you doing? You- you got on meds?”

Ian breathes out through his nose. “Yeah. Make me feel like a zombie.”

“Once they even out, you’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I read about it.”

Ian laughs a little. “Okay, scholar. But- there’s a lot of side effects to my meds. I might act a little stupid.” 

Mickey looks up and narrows his eyes. “Not stupid. And we can deal with side effects, so long as you aren’t jumping my bones every 10 minutes.”

Ian blushes and looks away. “I’m sorry, Mick. I just- it felt so weird. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Mickey pressed a kiss to his neck. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Anything exciting happen when I was gone?”

Mickey shrugs against his body, resting his head back down and pressing his forehead against Ian’s collarbone. The boy is taller than him, so his hoodie rides up a bit over his stomach, and Mickey wants to kiss his skin and pour all the words he can’t say into actions. 

“Came out to Kev and V.”

“No shit! Really?”

“Yeah. Uh- they're good about it. Threw me some whole fucking pride parade shit.”

“That’s awesome, Mick.”

“Yeah. But- you aren’t, uh, out to your family, right?” Mickey asks carefully, not informed on the proper terminology. Should’ve seen his face when Ian told him he shouldn’t say slurs in public where people don’t know he’s gay. Saved him a couple black eyes. 

“No. Well- Lip knows. Found all my porn last year. Nobody else knows, really.”

“Oh. So I won’t go spilling about our relationship to Debbie.”

“Nah, Debs knows, probably. I have a bet going on in my head that she turns out gay, too.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“Can we not talk about my family when we’re in bed together?” 

Mickey snorts and moves closer to Ian. “Sure, dipshit. Just don’t hog all the damn blankets.”

-

True to his words, Ian does have some weird side effects. He loses weight, becomes more snappy, is somehow constantly horny but also unable to get it up, and Mickey is worried about him, but at least he isn’t running away to an abandoned warehouse. 

“I think I should become a stripper,” Ian says, one day after school when they’re relaxing at Mickey’s house. Mickey chuckles and opens the box of mozzarella sticks, a splurge Kev went on because Mickey had mentioned that he hasn’t had them in years. He throws them in the oven and sits back down next to Ian. 

“I’m serious, Mick.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, sounds great, ‘cept for the fact you’re fucking 15.”

“I’m almost 16!”

“Where’s this coming from, man?”

“I just…” Ian frowns in frustration. “Fiona was right about me needing to get a job. Bills are piling up.”

“So work at a grocery store, not a strip club.”

“They make good money!”

“Cause perverts like touching kids like you. It’s fucked up. You’re not being a stripper. End of discussion.”

Ian grunts, leaning back and resting his head on Mickey’s shoulder. The older boy pats his thigh sympathetically. 

“We can go job hunting together. Make matching resumes or some shit.”

“I dunno Mick, that sounds pretty gay.” Ian smirks, pressing his nose into Mickey’s neck. 

“That right?” Mickey raises an eyebrow. He turns his head to stare down at Ian. “Go fuck yourself.”

Later that night, Mickey pulls away from Ian, massaging his jaw slowly and sitting back on his heels. Ian is staring at the wall, his eyes hard set and his fists clench. Mickey sighs quietly. 

“It’s okay, man.”

“No, it’s not!”

Mickey pulls Ian’s boxers back up and taps his hip, sitting down on his bed next to him. He goes to grab his hand but Ian pulls it away, moving so he’s rested against his headboard, pouting. 

“We got lots of time.”

“I used to get hard like… 5 times a day. Now- nothing.”

“It’s your meds, Ian. Not you.”

Ian’s frown stays deep set on his face, so Mickey leans forward and kisses his cheek. Ian brings his knees to his chest and balances his chin on them. 

“I’m serious. It’ll get better.”

“I’m not much use now.”

Mickey shakes his head. “You really think I only keep you around because of your dick?”

Ian shrugs. 

“Well, I mean, it’s not something I’m complaining about. But I thought we decided we were an actual couple or some gay shit like that. That means I don’t just want your dick.”

“It’s just really frustrating, Mickey.”

“I know. But we just gotta give it some time, okay? And we got tons of that.”

Ian slowly meets his eyes, giving him a sad little half smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And your dick. Even though it doesn’t love me back right now.” Mickey smirks. Ian snorts out a laugh. 

“Fuck you.”

-

Mickey spends the first couple weeks of March thriving. He applies to a bunch of colleges, the adoption is moving smoothly, and Veronica gets more and more visibly pregnant. It’s only after her one month mark when you can start to see her bump, and Mickey allows himself to enjoy the thought of being a brother. 

His court date is set for June, so though it feels like forever, Mickey is well aware the months are gonna blend into one another, so he decides to become a positive person and enjoy life. It’s exhausting. 

He starts by waking up early, getting a few sit ups and crunches in before heading off to the kitchen, where he washes last nights dishes and prepares breakfast. After a full day of school he comes home and goes job hunting online, only to sweep the floors and make dinner for his family. 

Kev insists on paying him for his chores, understanding that it’s hard to Mickey to get a job, especially given his criminal record (minor offence at age 14 will fuck your life up, kids), so he starts slipping Mickey a couple bills every day, trying to help out as much as he can. With only half a year until Veronica will undoubtedly be unable to work, they are getting as many hours in now, which means they have more to spend. 

Mickey is relaxed, and that’s exactly why he’s scared something is gonna go wrong. It’s only when he hears frantic banging on his door that he realizes that may be the case. 

“Ian?”

The redhead’s cheeks are flushed bright pink, and there are tracks of tears running down his face and his hands are shaking so much and Mickey wants to grab him and demand he tell him what’s wrong. 

Ian wipes harshly at his face. “Can- can I come in?”

Kev and V are at the bar, so Mickey nods, opening the door wider and looking outside to make sure he’s not being chased or anything. Still, he locks the door, and helps Ian take his jacket off carefully. He guides Ian to the couch and sits down next to him. 

“What’s going on?”

“Fucking- fucking Monica.”

“Ain’t that your mother?”

Ian nods, sniffing loudly and fiddling with his hoodie sleeves. “She’s back. And- and she wants to take Liam. And me.”

“And you? What?”

“She said-“ Ian hiccups. “That her and I are the same. That she can take better care of me.”

Mickey frowns, shaking his head slowly. “Shit..”

“I don’t wanna go. Fiona isn’t gonna let them take me, but.. but Liam. They want him real bad.”

“No way in hell is she taking that kid away from you.”

“I don’t know what to do, Mick.”

Mickey pulls Ian’s head toward his shoulder, moving closer to Ian as the boy cries harder, and he’s at a loss of words, so he just rubs his back and tries to calm him down. 

“It’s okay, baby, they aren’t gonna take anyone.”

Ian exhales slowly, bringing one of his hands up to wipe his tears away. Mickey pulls away and cups his face. 

“I promise. We aren’t gonna let them.”

Ian carefully looks up at Mickey’s eyes, which are hard set but filled with a certain softness, and allows himself to take a deep breath. Mickey presses a kiss to the middle of his forehead and rubs his thumbs over Ian’s cheeks. 

After a few minutes of silence, Ian snuggles closer to Mickey, breathing deeply but evenly. “Baby, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

Following his promise, Mickey does everything he can to prevent Ian’s mother from trying to tear the family apart. He offers to babysit the kids whenever Fiona needs him, and Lip tells him it’s only a matter of time before she leaves again, but Ian is a wreck either way. Mickey can tell the relationship between him and his mom is different. 

A few nights later, after hearing nothing but screaming matches from next door, he hears a voice outside. 

“Mickey?”

He opens the door, raising an eyebrow at the three youngest Gallagher kids, all looking defeated in some way. Fiona hands him Liam and shakes her head, showing off a large bruise on her cheekbone. Mickey is about to ask about it when she speaks. 

“I’m ending this. Right now. They don’t need to see this.”

Mickey nods carefully, gently pushing Debbie and Carl inside. He waits until they’re out of earshot before leaning in. 

“You need any help? I can get rid of somebody real quick.”

Fiona smiles sadly and adjusts her hair. “Thanks, Mickey, but you’re already helping enough.”

“Just sayin’. If you need it you come to me.”

“I think I’ve got this.”

Mickey nods, only letting her leave without his help because he knows she can handle it. Fiona has been through so much and he bets she would be the only person to truly understand his struggle. He’s always had a soft spot for girls with hearts of gold who have been through too much (Mandy, his mom, Fiona, Debbie, etc). 

Mickey closes the door with his foot and turns back to Debbie and Carl, who are both sniffling sadly, so he places Liam on the couch and crouches down next to the two of them. 

“You guys okay?”

“I don’t want her to go.” Debbie’s face scrunches up before tears start falling down her cheeks. Mickey stands and pulls her toward his stomach, ruffling her hair. Carl watches the two with a brave look on his face before Mickey grabs the back of his head and pulls him into the hug, sighing heavily. 

“It’s gonna be alright. Fiona is gonna fix this.”

They end up on the couch, Debbie snuggled into one side of Mickey and Carl on the other, while Liam is bouncing on his stomach. Mickey has never once even thought about wanting kids, especially since he’s only a few years older than these ones, but he can’t help that something in these three strike up something paternal like. 

Eventually Liam settles down and the two older kids fall asleep, Carl ending up with his head on Mickey’s lap, Debbie resting under his arm, and Liam snoring off on his chest, Mickey realizes just being here is enough for these kids. 

Someone (Veronica) may take a photo when she gets home and sees the view. Someone (Kev) may hang it up next to the fireplace. Someone (Mickey) might pretend to hate it but never want to take it down. 

They can pretend. 

Just like how Ian can pretend he doesn’t miss his mom when he sneaks into Mickey’s room that night, having gone through so much in the last month. Mickey doesn’t say anything, just presses a kiss to his forehead and hopes it conveys all the messages he wishes to speak on but doesn’t. 

“She’s gone. For good.”

Mickey exhales through his nose and pulls Ian’s back toward his chest, squeezing his hip. He doesn’t need words to communicate anymore. 

Ian understands. 

He always does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it’s been like 6 days without uploading which may just be a new record. BUT- some news, i am working on a secret series right now that I hope to start posting soon, so keep an eye out! hope you all are doing well, love you :)


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of child abuse and PTSD. also, might have screwed up the timeline a bit, but Mickey is 17 and Ian is now 16 (secret bday party i forgot to write about) Mick is in grade 11 and Ian is in grade 10. ignore any part in this series that says otherwise :P

By April, the snow has cleared, and there are muddy puddles covering the cement on the ground, but at least Mickey doesn’t feel the aftermath of his seasonal “sadness”. He’s always gotten angsty at winter. 

Veronica is showing even more, and one day after a doctor's appointment, she comes home with a pale face and tells him she’s having twins. Mickey breathes out shakily and places his hand over her prominent baby bump and promises he’s going to help out. 

Mickey goes to a therapy session. He doesn’t speak at all for the entire hour. The woman tried to pry information out of him, but he just stares at his hands, waiting for the 60 minutes to be up. He feels bad about wasting his parent’s money, but to be fair, he did warn them that he wouldn’t talk. She writes something down in her notebook and tells him to come back in two weeks. 

A few days after that, Mickey pitches an idea to Kev. 

“I want to see him.”

Kev looks up from his newspaper, furrowing his eyebrows. “Who?”

“My dad- uh, Terry. I want to go see him.”

Kev lowers the paper, frowning. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’ll be like 10 minutes. I’m not a fucking baby, man.”

“Didn’t say that.” Kev sighs. “Listen, just.. you’re doing good. Things are good right now. No need to set back a bunch of progress.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “I’ll be just fine.” 

“I’m sure you will, but it’s a tricky situation. You shouldn’t trigger yourself-“

“Fucking trigger? Like- like those PTSD bitches?”

Kev tilts his head. “You have PTSD, Mick.”

“No I fuckin’ don’t. I get jumpy sometimes, but that’s it.”

“So those flashbacks the first time you saw your dad? That was just jumpy?” Veronica joins them, dressed in an old nightgown. She kisses Kev’s cheeks before grabbing a piece of bread and popping it in the toaster. 

“Not flashbacks. Just got spooked.” 

“Mickey, don’t kid yourself. You have diagnosed PTSD.”

“And I think it would be very bad if you went to see your dad,” Kev supplies, standing up and walking by Mickey. “No offense, buddy, but I just think it’s not good for you.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you.” Mickey huffs out a laugh. He puts his plate in the sink and goes upstairs, sitting on his bed, a frown on his face. He knows some mediocre doctor and his puppy faced medical student assistant told him he had PTSD, but that was years ago, and Mickey does feel like he’s gotten better. 

And if there is one thing that inspires Mickey the most, it’s spite. 

So, he grabs his phone, googling up the prison he knows his dad is locked at. He then goes into his messages and types something out quickly. 

_ To: Lip _

can u drive me somewhere 

_ From: Lip _

Yeah, I’m out with Fiona right now. We can pick you up?

_ To: Lip _

sure thx

Mickey throws on one of Ian’s hoodies and splashes cold water on his face, taking a deep breath before heading back downstairs. 

“Where are you going?”

“Gonna go fuck a dude.”

Veronica raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrow while Kev barks out a laugh. 

“Alright, be safe.”

Mickey raises his two fingers in a little salute and heads out the door, waiting a few minutes before Fiona’s car pulls up, then ducks in the backseat. 

“Hey, Mickey.”

“‘Sup.”

Fiona gives him a smile and turns her attention back to the road. “So, where are you headed?”

“Uh..” Mickey scratches at his eyebrow. “The jail.”

Lip looks at him through the side view mirror. “Like, where your dad is?”

“Yep.”

“Do you have a fucking death wish?” Fiona asks him before she honks at some guy in front of her. “Go, asshole!”

“Did Kev and V say you could go?”

“Mhm.” 

Lip and Fiona share a look. 

“As long as I’m not gonna get sniped for taking you, I guess,” Fiona finally says. Mickey can see Lip typing something on his phone before a text immediately comes through. 

_ From: Ian _

wtf are you doing 

don’t go see ur dad 

Mickey scowls and hits Lip’s shoulder from the seat in front of him. 

_ To: Ian _

i’ll be just fine firecrotch 

_ From: Ian _

this rly isn’t a good idea 

_ To: Ian _

fuck u very much i can take care of myself

A few minutes go by without a response. 

_ From: Ian _

fine but don’t do anything stupid and come see me after

_ To: Ian _

what, u gonna punish me ;)

_ From: Ian _

shut up mick

love u be safe 

_ To: Ian _

ly2

They arrive at the prison about 20 minutes later, after a few quick stops on the way there, Fiona mutters something about tampons and Lip asking her to stop at a gas station for another pack of cigs. Fiona locks the door before he can get out and turns to face him. 

“So, just to be clear, your parents are fine with you going to see your mega-abusive dad who literally tried to kill you a while ago?”

“We have a complicated relationship.”

“Mickey.”

“Yes, they’re fine with it. Ask them.”

She gives him a wary look, then unlocks the door and watches as he goes in. 

“They definitely are not fine with this.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Lip lights up a cigarette and takes a drag before handing it to Fiona. “We gonna wait for him?”

“We have to.”

Mickey had already called to make sure visiting hours were good and that his father would be sitting there waiting for him when he arrived, so he goes through a security check and slides into the room, sitting across from his dad, separated only by the glass. 

He can’t help the way his heartbeat quickens at the sight of Terry. The man looks rough. Mickey wills his hands to stop shaking and grabs the phone. 

“You bringing me money?”

Mickey rolls his eyes and inhales. “Where do you think I have money?”

“From that cute little family you’ve got going on? How long till they ditch ya, Mick?”

“Good to see you too.” Mickey balances the phone by his ear and looks to the left. “I did bring you some money. But only if you listen to everything I have to say.”

Terry grunts a little. “You’re bribing me?”

Mickey scratches his nose and stays quiet. 

“Fine. Say what you wanna say.”

Mickey takes a deep breath, making eye contact with the guard before turning back to look his father in the eye. 

“You don’t scare me anymore.”

Mickey knows it’s a lie. Terry does, too, especially as he sits up straight and narrows his eyes. It’s the look he always gave Mickey before he would hit him. But he can’t. He can’t hurt Mickey anymore 

“You don’t- you can’t scare me anymore. You’re locked up in a cell for the rest of your life, Terry, and you’re so far away from anyone I love or care about that you couldn't hurt them if you tried.”

“Is that right?”

Mickey nods. “You know, you may have been the worst fucking father on the planet, but you could be a respectable man at times.” He feels the tenseness escape his shoulders. “I hated myself for looking up to you. But I see now, there were times you were good. You taught me that to love is to fight, and how loyal Milkoviches are.”

Terry raises an eyebrow. 

“Well, pops,” Mickey laughs a little. “I took everything good you taught me and fixed it. I know how to fight  _ for  _ someone, not against them. You beat mom because you loved her. You beat Mandy because you loved her, and you beat me because, somewhere deep down, you love me too.”

“I don’t-“

“You do. You love me so much you can’t accept that I’m not who you want me to be. You don’t want to think about the fact that I’m gay, well guess what, I took the love you taught me and learned how to fall for a man!”

Terry is seething at this point, but Mickey is too far too deep to stop. 

“That’s right, I am in love with a man. And it’s the best I’ve ever felt about anybody. We’re gonna get the fuck out of here someday, and leave your sorry ass behind to rot in a cell for the rest of your miserable life. And I’m gonna graduate next year and go to university, dad!” Mickey feels the tears falling down his cheeks. “I’m going to make something out of myself, more than you ever did, more than you ever could possibly do. Because I’m not your fucking son!” 

He’s yelling now, and the security guard is inching closer, but Mickey knows if he even breathes now, he won’t get another chance to say the words he’s always wanted to say. 

“I’m the son to two amazing parents who are adopting me, I’m the boyfriend to the greatest guy alive, and I’m about to be the brother of twins. And I’m pretty fucking awesome, too. I took the shit you threw at me like a fucking champ, and now, I’m getting the fuck out of here and going to become more of a man than you could ever be! Because even when you tried to kill me, tried to burn everything I love down, tried to ruin my life-“

Mickey inhales sharply. “I picked it back up. And I did a good fucking job.”

The security guard places a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, kid.”

Mickey wipes at his face. “So fuck you. Fuck you for trying to destroy me. But you didn’t do it. And you won’t get the chance again.” Mickey slams the phone down, before thinking twice and picking it back up again. “Oh, and the money part was a lie. Go fuck yourself, Terry.”

Terry’s face shakes with rage. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You’re never gonna get the chance!” Mickey screams. The guard tightens his grip on Mickey and pulls him until he’s standing. “I hope you fucking die in here, you child beating homophobic rapist piece of shit! I hope you fucking die, and I’ll fuck my boyfriend on your grave, nice and hard-“

Mickey is dragged away by hands around his waist, holding onto him tightly as he sobs. The guard directs him to the hallway, and Mickey doesn’t think, just knows he saw his father and there is a man grabbing him, so he pulls his fist back and punches the body on him. The man grabs his wrists and pins him to the wall, blood seeping from his nose. 

“Calm down, kid. That’s it. Deep breath.”

Mickey’s still shaking, but he doesn’t look angry anymore, so the guard carefully lets go of him. Mickey slides down the wall and buries his face in his hands. 

Mickey manages to calm himself down, his eyes puffy and his cheeks flushed bright red, and slowly looks up at the guard. “You gonna arrest me?”

“What for?”

Mickey wipes his eyes. “For punching a cop.”

He shrugs. “That’s tons of paperwork, and I would prefer to go home to have dinner with my husband.”

Mickey eyes him as the man sits down next to him. 

“Look, kid. I get it. Terry is quite possibly the biggest asshole in this prison. And I know it probably felt really good to get that all out of your system, but next time, don’t show up here. It’s not worth risking your safety to get revenge.”

Mickey tilts his head back against the wall and sniffs. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Anyone I can call for you? That boyfriend, maybe?”

Mickey’s lips quirk up a bit at the thought of Ian. “His family is waiting outside for me.”

“Alright, I’ll walk you out.”

Mickey stays there for a few more minutes until he’s presentable, and when Fiona and Lip see he’s with the guard, they both rush out of the car and toward him. Fiona takes one look at his beaten down state and pulls him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. Mickey shifts so his head is buried in her neck and takes a deep breath. 

“Is everything okay, officer?” Lip asks, his hand on Mickey’s back. The guard nods once. 

“Everything is fine. Just- it’s not good for him to come back.” 

Fiona squeezes him once more before pulling back, cupping his face and looking into his eyes. “Are you alright, honey?”

Mickey rolls his eyes, but she doesn’t fall for his defences. 

“Okay, let’s get you home.”

“I- uh- can I stay at your place?”

Fiona nods, smiling politely at the guard. He claps his hand on Mickey’s shoulder and looks at him. 

“Keep yourself out of trouble.”

Mickey ducks into the car and takes a few deep breaths. It’s only when they’ve been driving for a while that Lip speaks. 

“What happened in there, Mick?”

Mickey sniffs and looks at his hands, a smile forming on his face. He leans back against the seat and glances out the window, seeing a small kid sitting on his fathers shoulders as they make their way through the crowd. He looks back at Lip and exhales. 

“I stood up for myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie two chapters in two days! look at me go. okay i need ur opinions again- so i have some ideas planned for this story and i’m sure i can get it to 20 chapters, but then i have more ideas that don’t rly fit with the timeline rn, so i’m deciding whether i should continue it on this story or make this a series with a second book after. let me know :)


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another time skip lol i add too many of those. i think i’m gonna get this series to around 15 chapters and then maybe i will make another book. thinking heavily. hope u enjoy

Mandy goes on some stupid vacation for another month and a half, because as much as she doesn’t give a shit about her grades and it shows, her foster parents prefer to give her experience rather than force her to be at school. 

So, in May, 2 weeks before summer break, Lip spills about what Mickey did back in March. 

“You what?”

Mickey rolls his eyes, sipping on his juice box. He leans back against the cafeteria chair and drapes an arm behind Mandy. 

“Went to see dad.”

“Why?”

Lip is giving him a smug look, like he knew he would get in the doghouse for this one, so Mickey scratches his nose with his middle finger and returns his attention back to his upset sister. 

“Because I wanted to?”

Mandy weakly slaps at his chest. “That was stupid.”

“What, I can’t go see my father? What if I just missed that pretty face?”

“He wants to kill you, Mick. That was a really dumb move.”

Mickey reaches up and grips her hair, tugging. He smirks at her yelp. “I’m just fine, princess. Calm your A cups.”

“I have C cups now, fuckface.”

“Yeah, and I’m fuckin’ Obama.”

“Y’know, she does have C cups.” Lip smirks, glancing at Mandy before looking down at his hands. 

Mickey turns to Lip. “Do you want to die?”

Lip shorts out a laugh and Mickey removes his arm from the back of Mandy’s chair. 

“You guys are fucking annoying. Where’s red?”

“Sick.”

“What- like a cold?” Mickey hates the way his stomach drops. 

“I dunno. Ian’s always had a weak immune system.”

“Shit.”

“He’s fine, though. Just on bed rest.”

Mickey stands when the bell rings, going to his fourth period class as quickly as he can, praying the day goes by as fast as possible. He makes a few stops at other classrooms before finally getting out at 3, rushing back to the Gallagher house and knocking on the door. 

Carl answers, his hair messy and a mess of flour across his cheek. Mickey raises an eyebrow and places his school stuff on the kitchen table, sliding his hoodie off and looking at the boy. 

“God, what happened, kid?”

Carl slumps down into the chair, looking defeated. Mickey walks over to him and smooths his hair down. 

“Ian and Fiona are sick. I tried to make them food.”

Mickey licks his thumb before bringing it over his cheek, getting rid of the flour. “Well, I’ll go check on patient zero, then I can help you cook, alright?”

Carl nods, staring at the recipe book like it burned him. Mickey runs upstairs and gently creaks the door open. 

“Ian?”

The mess of blankets on the bed doesn’t respond, just shifts a little and curls up tighter, so Mickey takes that as a cue to sit on his bed. He places his hand on, what he thinks is, Ian’s back, and starts rubbing circles into the blanket. 

“Hey, buddy.”

Ian slowly pulls the blanket down, sniffling and wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. Mickey gives him an encouraging smile and helps him sit up a little. 

“How you feeling?”

“B’ike death,” Ian mumbles, his plugged nose changing his words. Mickey presses the back of his hand to his forehead and frowns at the heat. He moves his palm down and cups his cheek, wiping at the drying tear tracks. 

“I’m sorry.”

Ian preens into his touch, moving his face to rest in Mickey’s hand, closing his eyes. 

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Alright, me and Carl are gonna chef it up downstairs. I can go grab some cold medicine, eh?”

“Don’t have any.”

Mickey leans forward and presses a kiss to his head. “Then I’ll get some. Why don’t you try to sleep?”

“I don’t- Fiona..”

“Yeah, I’ll go check on her too.”

Ian shifts his head so he can kiss Mickey’s palm, sniffling again. 

“I b’ove you.”

Mickey smiles a little. “I love you too.”

Ian settles back into his blankets, sighing quietly. Mickey pulls the blanket up to his chin and flicks the light off. He heads toward Fiona’s room and knocks on her door lightly. 

“C’min.”

“Hey, Fi.” Mickey foots the door open, blinking at the darkness in her room. She mumbles something incoherently and blows her nose. “Want some light?”

He doesn’t really give her a chance to answer, pulling open her blinds slowly, making her wince and squeeze her eyes shut. She looks like a mess. 

“I’m gonna help Carl make some food then I’ll get some meds, anything else you need?”

Fiona sniffles and pulls the last tissue paper out of her box, looking at Mickey sympathetically. “Kleenex.”

“Alright. Hey, how ‘bout you take a shower and I can switch your bedsheets?”

Fiona whines a little, sitting up straight and running her fingers down her face. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

“I don’t gotta do nothing. I want to.”

“But- but Debbie is gonna come home and someone has to watch Liam,” she sniffs, swinging her legs over the bed. “And Carl is doing god knows what, and Lip is over his head for finals, and the house needs to get cleaned before this weekend because the stupid social worker is gonna show up.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “You done?”

“You didn’t sign up for this, Mickey. I’m pretty much using you for free labour.”

“Then you can pay me back by getting better so I don’t have to babysit the kids.” Mickey sits down next to her. “Look, you didn’t sign up for this either.”

Fiona tilts her head onto his shoulder. She’s obviously not in a good place right now, and Mickey will be damned if she doesn’t start taking care of herself. “I’m an adult, you’re the kid.”

Mickey sighs quietly. “I’m not raising them. I’m asking you to take a day to relax and get over whatever virus you’ve got while I watch them for a night. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Stop worrying so much.”

Fiona wipes at her eyes. “You’re a good kid, Mickey.”

Mickey pats her leg in response before clasping his hands together. “So. Shower?”

Fiona takes a minute before nodding. “Yeah, a- a shower sounds nice.”

She tries to stand, but has wobbly feet, so Mickey reaches out and catches her arm, leading her to the bathroom. He sits her down on the toilet seat and starts the water, remembering all the times he had to do this for Mandy, and waits until it’s warm enough before grabbing a towel. 

“If you gotta sit that’s fine. Just call if you need me.”

She gives him a grateful smile, so he closes the bathroom door and heads back to her room, switching her sheets and making her bed. 

Mickey doesn’t really know when this switch began. He went from not really giving a shit about anyone, to now wanting to protect his stupid boyfriend and his stupid family. He’s always been built to be a caretaker, but it only came out once somebody finally took care of him. 

Mickey heads back downstairs and helps Carl with the food, making some soup instead of whatever monstrosity he was planning on making. He changes Liam’s diaper and helps Debbie with her schoolwork while it cooks, before bringing it back upstairs to the two sick people. Fiona squeezes his hand in gratitude and tells him it tastes delicious, meanwhile it takes Ian some more convincing. 

“C’mon, Gallagher, just a few bites.”

“I don’t feel good, Mick.”

“After you stop being a baby and eat, I can get you some meds.”

Ian lets Mickey manhandle him into sitting upright, coughing at the sudden movement. Mickey glances toward the door before scorching forward and gathering some soup onto the spoon, bringing up and into Ian’s mouth, the redhead looking at him with surprise but accepting the food. 

They get halfway through the bowl when Lip walks in, snorting at the scene. 

“God, you two are so domestic it hurts.”

Mickey feeds Ian another spoonful. “Go fuck yourself, Philip.”

Lip leans down close to Mickey. “Anyway you could, uh, get him out for a bit? I gotta study for finals.”

Mickey frowns. “I’ll try. Hey, Ian? Do you wanna go lay with Fiona?”

Ian nods weakly, holding his arms out. Mickey places the bowl down and stands. 

“You’re not gonna actually make me carry you, right?”

“Mickeyyyyyy.”

Mickey ignores the laugh from Lip and bends down, picking Ian up bridal style and carrying him to Fiona’s room. Right before they get in, Ian makes a noise of protest, turning to bury his face in Mickey’s neck. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Wait..”

“Your lanky ass is heavier than you think, Gallagher..”

Ian musters up his strength and lifts his head, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Mickey’s cheek, just like Liam does. Mickey feels his heart stutter and moves his face down, kissing Ian on the forehead. 

“Alright, let’s get you laying down, you big suck.”

Mickey places him down next to Fiona, who already is looking better than she did an hour ago. Mickey exhales heavily and leans back, placing a hand on his back, which is already aching from having to lift the kid. 

“Thanks, Mick.”

“Yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back. Meds and tissues, right?”

Fiona nods, so Mickey clears his throat and exits the room. When he’s gone, Ian looks over to Fiona, laughing a little. 

“We’re a mess, Fi.”

Fiona chuckles and rests her head on Ian’s shoulder, appreciating the comfort that comes from being close with her brother. Ian has never been a cuddly person, but Fiona appreciates touch like no other, especially when she’s sick, and neither of them are in the right emotional state to pretend to be adults right now. 

Ian thinks back to the first time they fought. He must’ve been 12 or 13, filled with prepubescent rage, and told her that he hated her because she wouldn’t hijack the neighbours car to take him to a birthday party. She had looked him dead in the eyes, said, ‘I’m sure you do’, then proceeded to leave for the rest of the night. She couldn’t have been older than 17, and Ian finally got off his high horse and convinced Kev to drive him around looking for her, where they found her smoking a cigarette and walking down the bridge. 

Ian realized he really didn’t hate her, and has never spoken those words again. 

“Fiona?”

“Yeah, monkey?”

Ian is quiet for a moment. “I’m gay.”

Fiona breathes out through her nose, pressing the side of her face closer to Ian. “I know.”

“I’m in love with Mickey.”

Fiona shifts to kiss his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “I know.”

Ian closes his eyes, laying down properly so he could go to sleep. He’s always loved Fiona with all his heart. Ever since she took over as his mother when he was 4, he knew then and there that she would die for him, and now Ian gets to repay her by trying his best and helping out when he can. It’s not enough. It never will be enough. 

But Fiona always gets it. 

Meanwhile, Mickey walks into the Kash and Grab with a smirk on his face, walking in like he owns the place and perusing the medical section. He grabs some cold medicine and a box of tissues, as well as some cough drops for the nasty cough Ian is developing. He strides over to the cash register and places it down, the smug look not once coming off as Kash stares at him with anger in his eyes. 

“Hey, kid fucker. That’ll be all.”

Kash flinches, typing something in and stuttering out a price. Mickey gives him a couple bills that add up to way less than his total, but he dares Kash to try and confront him. 

“Have a great night, pedo.”

He walks out, appreciating the quietness of the night. He’s been over at the Gallagher’s for a while, and the sun has started to set quite early recently, so there’s practically nobody outside. He takes his phone out and sends a text to his group chat with Kev and V, telling them he’ll be home soon, and allows himself to think for a minute. 

There’s two weeks until summer break, which means there’s three and a half weeks until his court date. Mickey’s never really enjoyed summer, it’s always been too hot and too stuffy, especially when you’re in a home with dozens of other teenage boys, but he has a feeling this one is gonna be good. 

He has an amazing boyfriend who is finally stabilized on his medication and therefor back to how he used to be, and even though Mickey knows he would love him no matter what, it’s nice to have his old personality back. He has a great family, Kev and V and the Gallagher’s, who he knows would take a bullet for him. He has a pretty good life. 

Mickey only comes out of his thoughts when he hears footsteps behind him, and then the texture of a wet cloth pressed against his mouth. He struggles for a second, dropping the bag and reaching for his knife, but his brain shuts off before he can get it. Mickey falls down and the figure behind him drags him into a vehicle. 

With two weeks until summer break and three weeks until his court date, Mickey Milkovich goes missing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha ha plot twist :)


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Ian Gallagher doesn’t sleep for 6 days. Everyone is a mess, Veronica won’t stop crying and Kev has this lost look in his eyes, and the kids are confused and keeping asking Fiona where Mickey is, which only makes everyone cry harder. Plus, Mandy is a wreck, coming over first thing every morning and staying until she is forced to come home. 

They do everything they can. Hang up posters, call every hospital and police station in the state, and though Kev keeps quiet during their meetings, Ian knows he spends his nights driving around the city, no music, no sound, looking for his son. He only knows that because he joins him every night. 

“You need to sleep, buddy.”

Ian looks up at Lip, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and shaking his head frantically. He’s still recovering from his cold, and with the added stress, his emotional state is ruined. 

“Hey, you can’t do any good if you’re a zombie, man. Just sleep for a few hours, okay?” 

“I can’t- he’ll come back, and I won’t be there, or what if he calls me-“

“I’ll keep your phone, and I promise I’ll wake you up the second we hear anything.”

Ian keeps shaking his head, the movement making him dizzy. It’s only when Lip crushes up one too many melatonin pills into his water (which he forces him to drink) that he finally sleeps. 

-

Mandy shifts her feet, sitting down at the station with Ian, Kev, and Veronica by her side. Ian has his hand linked with hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, trying to keep the both of them at bay. 

“So, you’re Mr. Milkovich’s sister, correct?”

“Yes. Uh- yes, sir.”

The officer shakes his head. “No need for formality.”

Veronica sniffles, and Kev wraps his arm around the back of her chair, pulling her close. 

“And you two are his foster parents?”

“We- the adoption court date is in a couple weeks.”

“Alright. And what is your relationship to the victim?”

Ian hates that word. Victim. It sounds so serious, so fatal. He speaks before he can think. 

“Uh- boy- boyfriend.”

He feels the eyes of Veronica and Kev stare into the side of his head, as Mandy squeezes his hand once. She didn’t know, but she  _ knew _ . It’s one plus of being able to read Mickey Milkovich. 

“We usually only allow families in these cases..” 

“Please? I need- I need to help. Please.” Ian’s voice cracks, and he brings his other hand up to wipe at his eyes. The officer breathes out through his nose and nods. 

“Alright, kid. Listen, we have to do some individual interviews. Try and gather as much information as we can.”

-

“Has he been acting different lately?”

“No. Same as usual.” Ian shakes his head. 

-

“Has he expressed any interest in running away?”

“Hell no. Mickey’s never wanted to run away.” Veronica stares at the officer. Kev places a hand on her forearm. 

“He’s been in a good mood for the last couple months.”

“Was he not in a good mood before that?”

“He.. he has PTSD. Sometimes he goes through rough patches. He’s been good.”

-

“Has your brother ever ran away from home before?”

“He didn’t fucking run away,” Mandy spits. “He wouldn’t. He used to when we were kids, but that’s because my dad wanted to murder him, not because of any rebellious tendencies or whatever.”

-

“Where were you the night of the disappearance?”

Ian looks down at his hands. “I was- wait, am I a suspect?”

“No, Mr. Gallagher. You’re not a suspect.”

“That sounds like a question you’d ask a suspect.”

“Sorry- let me rephrase. Did you see Mickey the night of his disappearance.”

“Yeah. I was sick. He came over and took care of me and my big sister. Said he was going to get medicine for us, then didn’t come back. I thought he just had to go home or something so I called V and asked where he was, but she hadn’t seen him.”

-

“So, Mr. Gallagher told us you hadn’t seen Mickey before he went missing.”

“Yeah. I was at the bar before he went to school, Veronica had an appointment, he went right to the Gallagher’s after school.”

“He texted us and told us he would be home soon.”

“And he wasn’t?”

“Obviously he fucking wasn’t.”

-

“Is there anyone out there who would want to hurt your brother?”

Mandy sips on the water cup, thinking. “Of course my father, but he’s in prison, so..”

“Anyone else? Uncles, colleagues, friends..”

“Not that I can think of. Mick stopped talking to the whole family a while back. And.. he doesn’t really have friends.”

-

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Mr. Milkovich?”

“No. He’s an angel.” Veronica wipes her nose with a Kleenex. “Especially lately. Always helping everyone, babysitting the kids next door, running errands, helping out around the house. It’s not fair.”

Kev swallows thickly. “I mean, obviously his father. But he hasn’t been in contact with him for a while.”

“Define contact.”

“Apparently he went down to the prison a couple months ago and talked to him. I don’t really know what they talked about but he seemed fine when he came home that night.”

“So his father knows of Mickey’s wareabouts?”

“I don’t know, how many times do we have to tell you we don’t know who did this!” Veronica yells. “If we knew, we certainly wouldn’t be here!”

“Hey, it’s okay, V.” Kev pulls her to his chest. “Sorry, pregnancy hormones plus all this stress is doing some damage on her.”

“Shut the hellup, Kev.”

-

“Is there anyone you could think of who would want to hurt Mickey?”

Ian sucks his teeth and sits back. “Well, not off the top of my head, but I know a lot of people have problems with him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Mick is kind of an asshole sometimes.”

“That’s some new information,” the officer jots something down. “Look, kid, I need you to think long and hard about anyone he’s pissed off in the last few weeks.”

“The only people Mickey pisses off are incapable of doing something like this. He wouldn’t mess with an actual criminal.”

“Not his father?”

Ian darts his tongue over his bottom lip. “He hasn’t talked to his dad in a while. Terry wouldn’t do this.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Ian shrugs. “Mickey knows what he gets himself into when he does those kinds of things. If he thought Terry had any chance of hurting him from in prison, he wouldn’t have gone. He’s real smart like that.”

The officer closes his book. “Alright. Thank you for your time. I think we’re done for today.”

Ian stands, shaking his hand and heading back outside. He runs a hand over his face and hops in the car, exhaling heavily and sliding in the seat next to Mandy. 

“So, you and Mickey?”

Ian sighs, looking out the window. “Yeah. Not really how I wanted people to find out.”

“How long?” Veronica's voice is soft, tired out from all her crying. 

“A while. Few months.”

“Do you love him?” Mandy asks, a year running down her face. Ian nods slowly. 

“Yeah. More than anything.”

“He’s gonna be okay, man,” Kev speaks from the driver's seat, looking back at Ian through the mirror, a frown on his face. 

“What if he’s not?”

“He will be.” Mandy grabs his hand again. 

God, Ian hopes so. 

-

Mickey’s head is pounding and his body feels like someone hit him with a semi. He doesn’t have any idea where he is, just knows he feels like shit and he’s very confused. He opens his mouth to speak but finds it gagged. 

He thinks back to where he was when this all happened. Cold medicine. Ian. 

Fuck. 

He briefly wonders if Ian ever got the medication, knowing how sick the boy was. What if he got even sicker and it was Mickey’s fault? He just had to get kidnapped, didn’t he? And what if there was nobody to watch after the kids? 

After a couple minutes of freaking out, Mickey looks around and sees he’s in the back of a car. He musters up his strength and kicks as hard as he can, but the car stops, and Mickey is already planning his escape when the trunk opens. 

“Hey, Mick.”

-

At the two week mark, Ian feels his body start to lose hope. He’s lost so much weight from refusing to eat, and exhausted from trying to fight sleep. Now that it’s summer, Lip is home all the time, so he pretty much takes the position of Ian’s caretaker, trying to nurse the boy back to health. 

“You need to eat.”

Ian pulls his knees to his chest, breathing out deeply. “I’m not hungry.”

“Ian,” Lip shakes his head. “Listen to me. You are killing yourself.”

Ian blinks, staring down at his hands. As much as he wants to ditch them, he takes his pills every morning, knowing his family couldn’t handle a manic episode in the middle of all this, so they know it’s not his bipolar making him this depressed. 

It’s Mickey. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but..”

“Then don’t say it.”

Lip moves closer to Ian. “He might not come back.”

“He will.”

“It’s been two weeks, Ian. There’s a good possibility he’s not coming back. So how about instead of trying to die as well, you eat, and we can keep looking for him once you’re strong enough.”

“He’s not fucking dead, Lip!” Ian yells, his face flushed red. Lip closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“C’mon, buddy. You’re not help right now. You need to eat and sleep and… shower. You smell like shit.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“That’s it.” Lip stands, holding his hand out. “Get up. Now.”

Ian stares at him with confusion, but Lip takes that as a cue to grab his hand, pulling him up. He drags the weak boy to the bathroom, ignoring his cries and protests, and sits him down on the toilet, helping him undress

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“You can’t take care of yourself? Fine. But I’m not gonna sit around and watch my little brother kill himself.”

Lip starts the shower, pushing him in. Ian sinks down onto the ground, so Lip moves forward, washing his hair for him and trying to be as gentle as he can. Ian’s crying softly, his knees pulled to his chest, and they don’t speak, just baste in the fact that Ian is no longer capable of surviving without Mickey. 

Lip feeds him after, forcing more melatonin pills into his mouth and pulling his blankets up to his chest. 

For everyone sake, especially Ian’s, Lip prays they find him soon. 

-

Mickey wakes up a few days later, strapped to a chair in some dirty basement, his mouth dry as can be and his hands shaking so much he can’t even flex his fingers. He tilts his head up, blinking a little in the dark, and trying to make out his surroundings. He feels his head pound steadily and tastes drying blood on lip. 

“He.. hello?”

“Well, look who decided to join the land of living. How was your rest, sleeping beauty? Well, beauty isn’t exactly a word I would use.”

“What-“ Mickey blinks a few more times, trying to clear the blurriness from his eyes. “Where ‘m I?” 

“Don’t you worry about that.”

“Wha’ happened?”

“Y’know, I’m actually jealous of how drugged up you are right now. How about you try to sleep, and I’ll try and convince the boss man to get you some water. You sound crossfaded as fuck, Mick.” 

“Pl’se,” Mickey coughs. “Where?”

Mickey feels a hand pat his head, whining as the fingers touch a fresh wound on his scalp. “Stop asking stupid questions, kid.”

“I..”

“Just go to sleep, okay?”

He obeys. 

-

Kev is on high alert. It’s been two weeks since Mickey went missing, but the regularly dopey man has buckled down into serious detective mode, asking everybody in town if they’ve seen Mickey. The people at the Alibi are obviously tired to Kev’s PI ramblings, but they know how good of a kid Mickey could be, so they were trying to help too. 

One night, 16 days after the disappearance, Kev makes his way into a convenience store, grabbing an energy drink from the fridge and bringing it to the cashier. 

“Hey, is that all?”

Kev nods, wiping the exhaustion from his eyes and handing him the money. He thinks for a second before pulling out a picture. 

“Hey, man, have you seen this kid?”

“Mickey?”

Kev nods quickly. “He went missing on the 2nd.”

The man furrows his eyebrows. “He was here that day, I think.”

“What? What time?”

“I dunno. Late-ish. Probably around 9.”

“What did he get?”

The man ponders the question. “Uh, cold medicine, I think.”

“Fuck! Holy shit, dude, you’re a lifesaver. Are there cameras on the street?”

“Yeah, there was a while ago. Not sure if they still work.”

Kev grabs the energy drink and nods, adrenaline waking him up without even touching the drink. “Alright, thank you. You’re the best, man.”

Kev rushes out of the store, trying to get in Mickey’s head, and takes slow steps outside, trying to find where he was taken. This store is quite close to their house, so it has to be around here. 

Kev looks to the right, his eyes widening when he sees a bag from the Kash and Grab. He walks over to it and looks inside, letting out a shocked laugh at the items inside. 

Cold medicine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed <3


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: kidnapping, blood, violence, overall icky stuff

When Mickey wakes up for the third time (maybe, he hasn’t actually been keeping track) he feels worse than before. His body is soaked with freezing cold water, and his throat feels dryer than it’s ever been. A rough hand cups his jaw and forces a drop of the cold water in, Mickey immediately lapping at it like a dog, trying to bring some relief to his aching body. 

“I need you to listen to me, very very carefully, because I’m already risking everything saying this now.”

Mickey blinks, looking up at the man standing in front of him. The voice sounds kind of smooth, bringing a sort of comfort to him, even though he’s well aware this guy probably wants him dead. 

“Mick? Are you here?”

Mickey grunts in response, breathing in deeply even though it rattles something in his chest. 

“I promise you, the second things get dangerous, I’ll help you get out. But they need to have some fun with you first or else they’ll just find you again and it will be worse.”

“H’w long.. I been out?”

“You haven’t been out. They’ve been drugging you a lot. 16 days, I think.”

“Shit.” Mickey shivers a little. “Wai-“

He waits until his eyes focus and lets out a relieved sob at the face in front of him. 

“Iggy?”

Iggy looks back behind him toward the door, inhaling sharply before moving to slap Mickey across the face. 

“I’m sorry- I just- you need to go along with it. Or else this will get really bad for you. I have a plan, Mick. I promise.”

Iggy turns to leave, but Mickey gathers up the strength before groaning as loud as he can. 

“What?”

“Where- where’s Ian?”

Iggy shakes his head, turning around again. 

“J’s tell me he’s okay!”

Before he can respond, the door opens and another man walks in, dressed in a black ensemble and sporting a handful of different tools. Iggy sticks around, standing by the door and leaning back against it, a sad look on his face. Mickey tenses up automatically at the sight of the guy. 

“Hello, Mikhailo, wasn’t it?”

“You do this so much you forgot my name?” Mickey says, his words slurred. Iggy winces from his position a few feet away. 

“You’re nicer when you’re high.”

“I’on know what I did, but how ‘bout you just let me go?”

“You’ve pissed off a very important man, Mikhailo. Royally.”

“An’ who would that be?”

“Your father, dumbass.”

Mickey struggles a bit with the rope behind him. “He called a hit on me?”

“Not exactly. Just wants us to, for lack of better words, teach you some discipline.” 

Mickey is about to make another sarcastic retort, when Iggy shakes his head frantically from behind the man, so he settles back into the chair and coughs. “Can I get some water?”

“This isn’t exactly your place to make demands.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Then what’s going on?”

The man pulls up a chair, sliding the small table next to them and laying his tools out. “I want to have some fun.”

The weapons don’t look dangerous, really, except for the sharp knife that he grabs first. The man rips Mickey’s shirt off, staring directly into Mickey’s eyes before carving the knife into his skin, taking great pleasure in the way Mickey’s breath quickens. 

“Pl’se, I don’t- I don’t know what I did. Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hey, man.” Iggy joins the pair, putting false confidence into his voice. “How ‘bout you give me the knife so I can have something to do once you leave? I mean, c’mon, I’m bored as hell sitting around.”

“Christ, kid, you’re annoying,” the man hands him the knife. “Good thing I’ve got plenty of opportunities right here.”

Mickey gulps as the wire cutters come near him. 

He’s passed out before he can protest. 

-

Kev is going absolutely insane. Never in his life has he felt greater purpose. He hasn’t slept in a few days, and has taken the last week off his job, trying to piece together every bit of information he can. After pulling a knife on one of the shop owners on the corner Mickey disappeared on, they handed over a tape, and now he’s watching his kid get taken for the millionth time, trying to find what he’s missing. 

Kev closes his laptop with a grunt, pressing his fingers into his eyes, trying to ease some of the tiredness out. He jumps when he hears a bang come from upstairs, grabbing the baseball bat and rushing up to Mickey’s room. 

“What the- V?”

Veronica doesn’t look up, just grabs another shirt from Mickey’s dresser and shoves it in a box. Kev watches her for a second before grabbing her wrists and pulling her away, sitting her on the bed. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Veronica stares up at him. “He’s gone, Kev.”

“He’s not- he’s not gone. I’m finding him. We.. we are gonna get him back.”

“He’s fucking dead, Kevin. He’s not coming back.”

Kev shakes his head, grabbing his shirt from the box and putting it back in his drawer. “No, no. He’s not dead. He can’t be dead.”

Veronica stands, slowly, given the large bump that has developed. “We need to clean his room out. The girls will need a place to sleep.”

“He’s not fucking dead!”

She stumbles back a bit, her eyes going wide as his volume. Carefully, she steps forward, slowly wrapping her arms around Kev’s waist from behind. “Kev…”

“He’s not dead,” his voice cracks, giving away the emotions he’s tried to conceal over the last 20 days. “He’s not.”

“Alright.” She squeezes him harder. “It’s okay. Just- let’s get some sleep, alright, baby? Just us. Please.”

Kev turns around to hug her properly. “We can’t- we can’t-“

“I know.”

After a few beats, they climb into Mickey’s bed, filled with grief and exhaustion and confusion. With the light still on and the sun still shining through his window, the two fall asleep, surrounded by Mickey’s scent that is slowly fading away. 

They can’t give up. 

-

Mickey has lost count of the days. His body is numb, no longer processing any of his pain, and there are more bloody parts of him than there are clean. It takes exactly 20 days before Iggy snaps. 

“I say we kill him now. We can cut off one of his fingers and send it to Terry, tell him we completed the job.”

“We’re not actually killing him, are we?” Iggy speaks, his voice tense as he stares at the men surrounding him. It’s some crew Terry worked with a while ago, that he’s had on file since his first arrest, and Iggy had managed to convince them he was ready to help. And he has been. 

Unless he isn’t. 

“Might as well. Nothing left for us to do.”

“You- why can’t we just, I don’t know, pull his teeth out or something? We don’t have to kill him.”

“Listen, kid, he’s starting to bore me. Doesn’t even cry anymore. Terry said he would be a bitch about this.”

“Just- how about we do it tomorrow? Y’know, get some rest, sleep on it?”

“If you can’t handle this just say so.”

“I don’t-“

“Y’know what? How bout you do the honours?”

Iggy feels his fingers shake around the gun that is placed in his palm, and before he can even ponder what to do next, he’s scanning his eyes over the 4 men around him. He knows they’re all armed, but this is his brother, and he’s willing to risk it. 

“Fine. Can I just have a minute with him?”

“Whatever, say your gay ass goodbyes. Make it quick, though, we have other business to attend to.”

Iggy nods, palming the gun and taking a deep breath before walking into the room. He feels his heartbeat quicken at the sight of his younger brother, black and blue and so, so red, with no hope left in his eyes. 

“Hey, buddy..”

“J’s kill me.”

“Mickey? I don’t- please, trust me, okay?”

Mickey blinks. 

“I’m gonna shoot at the wall, okay, and you need to do something for me.”

Mickey groans. 

Iggy takes a deep breath and grabs his knife, holding it up to his own forearm and slicing into his skin. He holds the cut up to Mickey’s stomach, letting the blood stain his own skin, and then pulls the safety off the gun and shoots at the wall. The adrenaline in his body makes him forget how much pain his arm is in. 

Iggy waits for a minute before heading back out, hiding his cut behind his back. “I’ll take him out. Dispose the body.”

“Alright, good job, kid. We gotta be in Brooklyn soon.”

Iggy goes back to Mickey, taking the knife out and cutting the rope out. He picks his brother up, who lets out a yell at the movement, but Iggy is quicker than him and cups his palm over his hand. 

“Hey, wait, let’s see the body.”

Iggy flinches at the words spoken from outside the door, and adjusts his hold on Mickey. “Please, Mick. Please,” he whispers. Somewhere in the mess in his mind, Mickey recognizes the desperation in his voice; hell, it’s the desperation he had in his for the last 20 days. He takes a deep breath before holding it, resting his head back on Iggy’s shoulder and playing dead. 

“Not bad, not bad. Hey, he’s not really a bleeder, is he?” 

“I think he lost so much over the last couple weeks that there’s nothing left for him to give,” one of the other guys chuckles. Iggy forces a laugh out and nods. 

“Yeah. Listen, I’ll be back before dark. I’ll find a good place to put ‘im.”

The leader nods, patting his boys on the back and directing them elsewhere. He gives Iggy one more look before turning on his heel and following them. 

Iggy pulls Mickey closer to him and winces at the boy’s cries. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m gonna get you out, Mick. I promise.”

Mickey closes his eyes and goes limp in his arms, and once Iggy is sure he’s breathing, he finds the door and rushes out, running as quick as he can with the severely underweight boy passed out in his arms. After about 30 minutes of running, he finds a quiet spot, then sits down, shifting to Mickey is sitting on his lap with his head by his neck. He reaches into his own pocket and grabs the phone he made sure to take from Mickey when he first got abducted, quickly dialling for the police with shaky fingers. 

“Hey- I, uh- I have a missing person with me. Mickey- Mikhailo Milkovich.”

-

Ian stares down at his breakfast, shoving some more eggs into his mouth at the stern glare of Lip, who has pretty much become his nurse in this awful period of time. It’s been 20 days since Mickey went missing, and within the last few days, Ian has been slowly getting better. 

“Have you heard anything?” Ian asks, because he asks it every day, asks Fiona and Kev and Veronica and everybody he can find. 

“No,” Fiona shakes her head, feeding Liam a spoonful of his food. “I’m sorry, sweet face.”

Ian runs a hand through his hair and frowns, pouting down at the table. 

“‘Eres Mimi?”

Ian looks up at Liam, who has this confused look in his eyes, because he’s a child and they didn’t take the time to explain this to him. Ian sits back in his chair and puts his hand over his face, letting Fiona and Lip try to explain, and jumps a little when a hand reaches out and grabs his. 

Debbie squeezes his hand gently, moving forward to rest her head on his shoulder. She’s been the only one who hasn’t told Ian some bullshit about how Mickey’s coming back soon, or ‘once I hear something I’ll tell you’. It gets exhausting. 

After a few minutes of their silent peace, the front door slams open, and Kev stares at Ian first before looking around. 

“They found him. In Boston.”

Ian stands so quick he goes dizzy, but Lip follows his action and rests a hand on his back, grounding him. 

“He- he’s really hurt. Really bad. They have him in the hospital right now. But- but he’s alive- and- and they said they found out who took him and arrested them all- and he’s okay. Well-“

“Let’s fucking go!” Ian yells, grabbing his phone and running out the door, sliding in the truck and shaking his leg nervously. He looks at Veronica and grabs her hand, feeling tears of relief stream down his face. 

“He’s okay, baby. He’s okay.” She brings his hand up to her mouth and presses her lips against it, closing her eyes tightly. 

After a minute or two, Fiona hops in the seat next to him, placing her hand on his leg and looking out the window. 

Ian has to fight to keep his breathing steady as they begin the longest 14 hour drive ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s my birthday :)))))


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for ptsd and injuries relating to last chapter

Kev keeps his eyes trained on the floor, bouncing his leg as gently as he can without waking Ian. The kid has been awake since they got in the car, and it was only when they arrived at the hospital he finally nodded off, his head laying on Kev’s thigh and his legs draped across Veronica, who was resting on a sleeping Fiona. It’s sometime after 4 in the morning, and he can’t get his brain to shut up. 

The doctors haven’t told him much. Just that Mickey has some awful injuries and will definitely have lasting trauma from this experience, but other than that, he’s expected to make a recovery. 

Just as Kev is about to succumb to his exhaustion, a doctor exits one of the rooms and heads toward him. 

“Milkovich?”

Kev nods, wanting to stand, but not wanting to disrupt Ian.

“He should be waking up soon, but I should talk to you about something before you see him.”

Kev gently maneuvers Ian’s head off his leg and places his jacket under his neck, standing and stretching. “Yeah?”

“He- he doesn’t look well.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman clutches the clipboard and adjusts her scrubs. “Mikhailo went through some serious trauma, both physically and, from what I’ve heard, emotionally. It’s hard to say that he will ever truly make a full recovery.”

“I.. okay..” 

“But, for what it’s worth, he’s a fighter. He’s doing very good considering the damage done to him.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course.” 

Kev looks back at the people he loves sitting in the waiting room, all sleeping peacefully, and decides it’s not worth it to wake them up. He follows the doctor into Mickey’s room, letting out a choked sob at the sight of Mickey. 

The boy is covered in bandages, his face bruised and his leg wrapped in a cast. Kev freezes and blinks, sniffling a little. 

“I know it doesn’t seem promising, but he’s on a good track.” The woman places a hand on his arm, directing him forward. “See?”

Kev goes to touch him, but pulls his hand back and breathes deeply through his nose. “I don’t-“

“Here,” she grabs a chair from the side and pushes it toward the bed. “You can sit here while he wakes up. I’m sure he’d be happy to see his dad.”

Kev slowly sits down, unable to stop the tears streaming down his cheeks. He wipes at them with the back of his hand and stares at Mickey, who doesn’t even move aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

“I’ll give you some privacy. Feel free to press the button anytime you need assistance.” She squeezes his shoulder sympathetically and leaves. 

“Oh, Mick..”

Kev lets the relief of seeing his kid and the beeping of the machines lull him to sleep. 

-

When he wakes up, it’s to the heart monitor beeping quickly, and muffled groans coming from Mickey’s bed. Kev sits up quickly and looks at the boy. 

“Mickey?”

Mickey slowly opens his eyes, breathing in quickly and shaking his head. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Mick, you’re alright.”

Kev slams down on the nurse button, moving forward and floating his hand over Mickey’s shoulder, afraid to hurt him. 

“Ian- Ian-“

“Okay, buddy, it’s alright. I’ll get Ian.”

Kev stands, sprinting out and shaking the sleeping boy in the waiting room. Ian grunts and wipes at his face, yawning quietly. 

“Ian, c’mon, he’s up.”

“He’s awake?”

Ian stands slowly, his balance off, and rushes into the room. Kev takes a second to wake Veronica and Fiona up, explaining the situation. 

Back in Mickey’s room, a nurse is trying to calm him down, while Mickey yells and thrashes away from her, practically hyperventilating. 

“Ian!”

Ian feels his heart shatter at his voice, full of terror and pain, and moves in front of the nurse, sitting down and making eye contact with Mickey. 

“I’m right here, Mick. I’m-“

Mickey quiets down, his breath still coming in quick and painful. The nurse lets out a small sigh of relief and looks at the two of them. 

“You can.. you can touch him.”

Ian looks at her quickly for approval, then slowly pick up one of Mickey’s hands, holding it with both of his and bringing it toward his lips. 

“Ian?”

“Yeah, Mickey, I’m right here.”

Mickey blinks up at him, letting out a pained whine. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, calm down,” Ian kisses his hand, blinking the tears from his eyes. “You’re okay.”

Veronica and Fiona enter the room, followed by Kev, the three of them anxiously standing by the door. Ian hushes Mickey’s cries and squeezes his hand, attempting to soothe his worries. 

“They’re gonna- he’s gonna take me-“

“No, no, no. Nobody’s coming for you, baby. It’s okay. We’re all right here. See? It’s V! And Fiona, and Kev..”

Ian removes one of his hands from Mickey and waves the crowd over. Veronica takes one look at him and bursts into tears, pressing her face into Kev’s chest, and Fiona looks like she’s fighting back her own emotions. 

“Hey, bud.” Fiona gives him a smile, resting one of her hands on Ian’s shoulder. Mickey looks at her for a minute before turning his gaze back to Ian. 

“Ian..”

“Yeah, I got you. It’s alright.”

Mickey’s eyes slowly close, encouraged by Ian’s constant praise, until he falls back asleep again. 

-

When Mickey wakes up, he’s more aware than before. He feels the pain deep in his muscles and stares down at his broken leg before looking up and around the room. Everyone’s sleeping, and it’s almost pitch black, except for the dull light of a cell phone coming from the corner of the room. 

Mickey clears his throat, wincing at the dryness. It reminds him of when he woke up in the warehouse. At least it gains the attention of Fiona. 

“Hi, Mick..” she whispers, her voice soft and careful. He tries to speak but sputters, so she grabs the water from his table, directing the straw into his mouth and helping him drink. 

“Fi?”

“Yeah, buddy. How are you? Do you want the nurse?”

“Hurts..”

Fiona frowns, putting the empty water cup back on the table. “What hurts?”

“Everything.”

“I’ll go get you some meds-“

“Wait-“ Mickey weakly wraps his hand around her wrist. She adjusts so she’s holding his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, soothing some of the pain. 

“Yeah?”

“I don’t- I don’t wanna sleep anymore.”

“Alright, honey, but if you’re in pain you can get some pills for it.”

“Pills make me sleepy..”

Fiona sighs quietly and gently sits down next to him on the bed, massaging his hand. “What can I do, then?”

“That feels nice.”

Fiona smiles, adding more pressure as she works the tension from his hand and forearm. She finishes and grabs his other hand, helping him as much as she can, feeling useless and powerful at the same time. 

“Do you want to sit up?”

Mickey nods, so she presses something on his bed, helping fix his posture. Mickey exhales a little in pain as it stretches out his torso. 

“Do you want me to wake them up?”

“No, they- they need sleep.”

“Ian would be mad if I didn’t..”

Mickey smirks as much as he can with the bandage wrapped around his head. “St’bburn bastard.”

“He’s been a mess ever since you went missing,” Fiona says, looking over at the redheaded boy, who is fast asleep against Kev. “Didn’t sleep or eat for the first couple weeks. We’ve all been worried sick.”

“‘M sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart.” Fiona returns her attention to Mickey, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault at all.”

Mickey doesn’t know what to say, so he just looks over at Veronica. “How’s the babies?”

“They’re good. Developing nicely. She should have them in a couple months. Two healthy baby girls.”

“W’s the stress bad for her?”

“Don’t worry about that, honey. She’s doing okay. The babies are doing okay. We’re all okay now that you’re here.”

Mickey nods slowly, looking at Fiona’s tired form. “You should sleep, too.”

“Probably.”

Fiona starts humming, just a casual thing she probably doesn’t even recognize she’s doing, but somewhere in his heart, it reminds Mickey of his mom. He lets her soothe him to sleep. 

Fiona returns back to her chair and closes her eyes. If she can just help a little, maybe he’ll turn out okay. 

God, she hopes. 

-

“Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place-“

“This book was stupid.”

Veronica closes the book and looks down at the cover. “I thought it was cute.”

“Cute, yeah. But stupid. How can a pig be friends with a spider?”

“I don’t know, Mick. That’s the point. Imagination.”

Mickey rolls his eyes as he feeds himself another spoonful of pudding. “Stupid.”

His nurse, a young girl named Brianna, enters the room, holding some medication and a clipboard. 

“Hey, Mickey. How do you feel?”

“Same as usual.”

“Be more specific,” Veronica prompts. 

“My leg hurts like a bitch. My skin is itchy all the time.”

“Last week you described the pain as, uh, I quote,” she clears her throat and looks at her paper. “‘10 out of fucking 10, I hope the medication kills me right here.’ End quote. How would you rank it now?”

Mickey shrugs. “I dunno. 6/10.”

“That’s good! Awesome, actually.” She grins. Mickey grunts a little. All his meds are making him super grumpy. 

“Doctor,” Veronica looks down at her hands before facing Brianna. “When do you think we’ll be able to head home?”

“He should be cleared to go home by the end of the week. However, it will be tricky. Do you have a rehabilitation centre near your home?”

“Wait wait wait, fuckin’ rehab? Like for druggies?”

“No, physical rehabilitation. For your leg.”

“My leg is fine,” Mickey knocks on the cast, where Kev had already taken to drawing a dick on it. “Good as new.”

“And, of course, we must talk about therapy.”

“Oh, jesus.”

Veronica hushes him. “Mickey was in therapy before the… accident. We can get him back as soon as we’re back in Chicago.”

“Therapy is fucking stupid.”

Brianna ignores him, handing him a couple pills. “I’ll be back in a few hours to take your blood.”

“Yeah, feel free not to!”

A few minutes later, Ian walks in, holding a bag full of stuff and sitting down in the chair next to his bed. “Hey, Mick.”

Veronica greets him and stands. “I’m gonna go, okay, Mickey? I’ll bring another book tomorrow.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek and squeezes his hand. 

“Bye, V.”

Mickey settles back into his bed once Veronica’s gone, scooching over to make room for Ian. “Get your ass up here.”

Ian carefully crawls into bed next to him, sighing contentedly and cuddling closer to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I am so tired of people asking me that.”

“God forbid we worry about you, not like you disappeared for 20 days.”

Mickey frowns, looking down at Ian and raising an eyebrow. “Someone’s in a bad mood.”

“I’m not in a bad mood, Mick. I’m just tired of you pretending like nothing happened.”

“I’m here now, that’s all that matters.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ian sits up, staring down at him. “It isn’t. You were fucking kidnapped and tortured, Mickey. You can’t keep dismissing it.”

Mickey winces at his words. “I’m just fine, firecrotch.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Jesus, are you on your period or something?”

Ian’s gaze turns hard. “You have been in the hospital for two weeks, and you still haven’t talked about what happened. You’re gonna snap one day, Mick.”

“Can we just drop this?”

“No, we can, because my fucking boyfriend got  _ tortured  _ and he’s pretending that nothing happened. Do you know how fucking worried I was? How many nights I stayed up walking around the city looking for you?”

Mickey struggles to sit up as well, returning his glare. “You know what, yeah, I do know. Do you not remember when your psychotic ass went missing for two days and I found you in an abandoned warehouse?”

Ian’s face drops. He sniffles angrily and crosses his arm. “Low fucking blow.”

Mickey sighs quietly and lays back down, silently spreading his arm out. After a few beats, Ian slowly lays back down, resting his head on Mickey’s bandaged chest and closing his eyes. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re not psychotic.”

“I’m sorry too. I don’t want to push you.”

Mickey closes his eyes and forces down the smile that tries to appear when Ian’s lips find his neck. 

“I gotta shave soon.”

“No, I like it,” Ian speaks into his skin, kissing up his jaw. Mickey brings his hand up to Ian’s hair and grips it lightly, just enough to apply some pressure, then snuggles closer to him. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you?” Ian stops kissing him and closes his eyes as well. 

“Great.”

-

True to his nurse’s words, Mickey is ready to get the hell out of there by the end of his third week. He’s covered in scarring marks, his leg is still wrapped tightly in a cast, but his bruises have cleared, and he looks a lot more presentable than he did before. 

“I didn’t- we didn’t grab any clothes, but we bought some from the thrift store, and you can wear some of mine.”

Mickey nods at Ian, who hands him some sweatpants and some tattered crew neck. He watches Mickey struggle to take his gown off before stepping in. 

“Here- I’ll help.”

Ian holds his breath as he undresses Mickey, unable to stop himself from looking at the lashes and cuts all over his torso. He sniffs a little then grabs the shirt, gently putting it on him. 

“I know,” Mickey mumbles. 

“Know what?”

“They’re fuckin’ ugly.”

Ian shakes his head, trying to get the pants around Mickey’s cast. He tugs them up his hips and adjusts him a little, pressing a kiss to his cheek once he’s done. 

“They're not ugly,” Ian whispers. “Nothing about you could ever be ugly.”

Mickey’s too tired to respond, so he grunts and breathes out through his nose as Veronica, Kev,

and Fiona enter his room, holding balloons and fake flowers. 

“Jesus..”

Veronica walks over to him and kisses his forehead. “You ready to go home, baby?”

Mickey wants to make some contort about how he was ready to go home the second he got kidnapped, but he finds that nobody really likes the ‘k’ word, so he nods and rolls his eyes at the wheelchair that Kev pushes his way. 

“Good lord. Can I not walk like a regular fucking person?”

“Nope,” Ian answers, helping Mickey sit up and carefully maneuvering him to sit in the wheelchair. They slowly make their way out of the hospital after Veronica signs some papers, and Mickey is relieved, sure, but there’s a feeling of dread in his stomach that he can’t quite place. 

Once they’re outside, Mickey breathes in deeply and squeezes his eyes shut, enjoying the hot sun on his face. It’s only when they get to the car that his problem starts. 

“Okay, so we gotta lift you in,” Kev nods toward the truck. Mickey notes the resemblance to the truck that took him. 

“Uh, just-“ Mickey tries to speak, but the words get caught in his throat. Kev doesn’t notice, just gently grabs Mickey by the underarms, directing him into the vehicle. It takes a few seconds before Mickey starts protesting. 

“No- no- no, no-“

“Mick?” Kev groans as Mickey kicks at him with his good leg, breathing quickly and shaking his head. 

“Let me fucking go!” Mickey yells, clenching his fists and punching Kev whenever he can find him. Kev quickly puts him down, Mickey lifting his hurt leg like a flamingo, and watches as the boy snaps his head both ways, looking terrified. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, buddy-“

“I don’t-“ Mickey tries to walk, but freezes at the pain in his leg. “Get the fuck away from me.”

Kev steps back, confused, and Ian immediately takes his place. 

“Hey, Mick, it’s okay…”

“Ian?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Ian gives him a gentle smile. He reaches out and grabs his hand. “See? Everything’s alright. Want to get in the car with me?”

“No- no, no car, he’s gonna-“

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Ian shakes his head. “Not with me here.”

Mickey looks around once more, feeling the pity from Fiona and Veronica burn his skin in shame, and nods slowly toward Ian. The redhead jumps in the car and holds his hands out, helping Mickey sit next to him. Mickey is still breathing hard and looking around nervously so Ian places his hand on his thigh. 

“Everything’s okay, Mickey. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

Mickey flinches as Fiona climbs into the seat next to him, making sure to leave an inch or two of space between them, avoiding looking at him, obviously trying not to spook him. 

“It’s just Fiona. She’s good.”

“Good?” Mickey’s voice is tense but scared. Ian nods. 

“Yeah. Everyone in this car is good. You’re not gonna get hurt here.”

Mickey exhales slowly in relief, still jumping slightly when Kev gets in the car again, but allows his head to rest on Ian’s shoulder as they begin driving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, hope u all are doing well <3


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for ptsd

Mickey wakes up with a headache, a dry mouth, and the remaining fear of his latest nightmare. He stumbles out of bed and grabs his crutches, quickly scrambling away from the bedroom, breathing in quickly as he looks around the house. 

He’s been staying in the guest room until his leg heals, because even though Kev has the strength and motivation to carry him up the stairs every time he needs, Mickey freaks out whenever he grabs at him, so they stuck to avoiding the stairs in general. 

“Mickey?”

Mickey jumps, reaching out and grabbing the bread knife sitting on the counter, holding one shaking arm out and aiming the knife at whoever is trying to take him. 

“Hey, hey…”

Mickey tightens his grip on the knife, moving back, but one of his crutches fall, and he loses his balance, falling back onto the ground and pushing himself back against the surface behind him. 

“Hey, it’s me, it’s Kev. It’s alright..”

“Kev?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me.” Kev kneels down in front of him and slowly takes the knife from his grip. He carefully reaches out and places a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. 

“Wha…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m- yeah, I’m okay.” Mickey looks around nervously. He settles back against the counter and sniffles a little. 

“What’s wrong, bud?”

“Uh- nightmare.”

Kev nods, moving so he’s sitting beside Mickey. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mickey shakes his head, wincing a little at the pain in his skull. 

“Alright.”

Mickey waits a few minutes in the silence before resting the side of his head against Kev’s shoulder. Although he’s scared of contact right now, he also craves it more than ever, and usually he only gets his fix in when Ian is over, but since he’s not, Kev will have to do. 

“Mick?”

Mickey hums, closing his eyes. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Not y’r fault.”

“I should’ve been there. I could’ve helped you.”

Mickey slowly reaches out and grabs at his hand, letting his exhaustion wear him out. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Kev breathes out gently. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Mickey,” he leans his head toward to kiss his head, where his long hair is flowing past the back of his neck. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

Mickey forces his words out as he falls asleep, letting himself go limp against Kev. “Love you too, dad.”

They spend the rest of the night on the kitchen floor. 

-

Mickey hates it. Hates hearing the hushed whispers from the kitchen, as if he lost his sense of hearing in the accident. His trauma has only been amplified by coming home, and within the last week alone, he’s tried to attack both Kev and Ian on multiple occasions, terrified at their strong demeanor. Kev only wears hoodies around the house now, trying to conceal the figure that so obviously terrifies his son. 

They haven’t talked about the whole ‘dad’ thing. Every time Kev brings it up, Mickey grabs his crutches and wobbles off to another room. It’s okay, though. Kev always knew Mickey was not one for confrontation. 

“Please?”

Mickey looks up at the sound of Fiona’s voice, standing in the doorway, a desperate look on her face as she keeps the younger kids intact. 

“I don’t know, Fi..”

“I don’t want them to stay by themselves when Frank is home. And I gotta take Ian to the clinic, and-“

Mickey raises his head higher. “Ian?”

At his words, Debbie and Carl take off and run toward him, chanting some combination of ‘Mickey!’ and ‘You’re home!’ He barely has time to react before the two are standing on either side of him, wrapping their arms around his waist. Mickey doesn’t flinch, just places his hands on both their backs and pulls them closer. 

“I missed you,” Debbie mumbles into his arm, turning to face him. Mickey gives her a reassuring smile and nods. 

“Missed you too, kid.”

“Is it true you got kidnapped?”

Mickey blinks a little at Carl’s words, unable to keep the laugh from huffing out of his mouth. “Yup. Rumours are true.”

“Awesome…”

“Hey, Carl, don’t say that to him.” Fiona shakes her head. She adjusts Liam in her arms and smiles sadly at the scene in front of her. 

“What‘s, uh..” Mickey detaches himself from the kids and stands, grabbing his crutches and moving over to the adults. “What’s up with Ian?”

“Just gonna go adjust his meds,” Fiona says, her voice tired. Mickey narrows his eyebrows. 

“Wha- like, what happened?”

“He’s fine, honey,” she explains. “Just showing some early signs of mania and we don’t know if we should be concerned. Better to take him and be wrong.”

“Do.. do you want me to come?”

Fiona looks at Veronica quickly. “Uh..”

“Maybe you could help out with the kids?” She takes over, relieving Fiona of the squirming toddler in her arms. She makes an overexaggerated face at Liam. 

“Why can’t I go with them?”

“Probably ‘cause they think you’ll get kidnapped again,” Carl speaks from the kitchen. Fiona turns to give him a glare and Kev is about to speak when Mickey holds a hand up. 

“No, no, let the kid talk. He’s the only one who’s not treating me like a fucking baby.”

“Mickey..”

“No, Jesus. I get it. It happened. It sucks ass. But I’m not fucking incapable of going to help my boyfriend when he needs me.”

“Not today, Mick.” Kev shakes his head, sighing quietly. 

“God, fuck you all,” Mickey doesn’t think before moving out the door, breathing in the fresh air. Veronica protests behind him but he holds up his C finger proudly, walking as quick as he can with his crutches. 

“Where are you going?”

“On a walk.”

Mickey hobbles all around town for about half an hour, going into gas stations and stealing cheap food before heading onto his next landmark. The freedom feels right, feels eye opening, until it doesn’t. 

Mickey feels his breath speed up as a man dressed in black clothing looks at him from across the street. He offers a wave, but Mickey immediately speeds away, and tries to find shelter somewhere safe. He can still hear footsteps behind him, the wind blowing on his neck, and it’s all too much, too similar to the day he got taken. 

Mickey ducks into an alley and levels himself on the ground, holding his hand over his mouth so as to not make too much noise. He pulls his phone out and looks through his contacts, barely able to contain a whimper from leaving his mouth, and he’s about to call Ian when he remembers. 

Ian is going through so much stress with him back that it’s affecting his bipolar. 

This is his fault. 

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut as tears fall down his cheeks, tilting his head back so it’s rested against some store wall. His fingers shake as he finds the next best person, holding the phone to his ear and waiting. 

“Yo?”

Mickey breathes out in relief. “Can you- can you come pick me up?”

He hears shuffling on the other end. “Mickey? Hey, what happened?”

“Please.”

“Alright, send me your location. I’ll be right there.”

About 10 minutes later, Lip arrives, looking around worriedly as he tries to spot Mickey, who’s still shaking and staring at the wall. Lip lets out a breath at the sight of the boy and kneels down. 

“Hey, Mick.”

“Hi.”

Lip gives him a half smile, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I just- I don’t know what the fuck to do, Lip..”

Lip looks around. “Alright. That’s fine. Do you want to go get lunch or something? We can talk about it there?” 

Mickey nods, so Lip helps him stand, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady as Mickey grabs his crutches. They walk to the car, Mickey stopping in his tracks at the sight of the vehicle. 

“Ian told me you had that thing,” Lip pockets his keys. “Hey, I know a place, we can walk.”

Mickey eyes his warily. “You sure?”

“Mhm.”

They walk to a diner, a cute one with pretty girls and lots of old guys chomping on burgers, and Mickey slides into a booth and looks around nervously at the men sitting around them, but Lip takes his attention away by speaking. 

“They’ve got some really good onion rings here.”

“I didn’t bring any money.” Mickey turns his head bashfully to look out the window. 

“My treat.”

They get an order of onion rings for the table and, with Lip’s persistence, a chocolate milkshake for Mickey. He feels stupid, like some child, and it distinctively brings back memories of all the times he had to get lunch with his social worker in between homes. At least Lip doesn’t have the pity eyes. 

“Is Ian okay?” Mickey asks before he can stop himself. 

“He’s fine. Hasn’t done anything yet, just started waking up real early and has an extra boost of energy. Probably nothing, but Fiona wants to take him just in case.”

Mickey nods, chewing down on an onion ring. Lip looks at his depressed form and raises an eyebrow, placing both of his hands on the table, verbatim to how Laura used to sit after Mickey did something stupid. 

“So. What’s going on with you?”

Mickey furrows his eyebrows and looks away for a second before meeting Lip’s eyes, a confused look on his face. “Uh. Besides from the whole, fuckin’, I dunno, kidnapping?”

“Yeah. Besides from that.”

Mickey breathes out through his nose. “Uh, nothing.”

“Okay, then why are you acting like this?”

“Maybe ‘cause I was fucking abducted and tortured? Did ya miss that conversation, or-“

Lip shrugs. “Alright. So that happened. You’re just gonna let it take over your life?”

“I think I have a right to be upset about it.”

“Not saying you don’t,” Lip leans back in the seat. “You’re allowed to be upset. You’ve got some fucked up trauma. But you’re letting it ruin you.”

“Fuck you very much.” Mickey waves off dismissively. 

“So when will you start getting into cars again,” Lip tilts his head. “I mean, without Ian, of course. He’s not gonna be around every time you need someone to pick you up off the ground. Mickey, you’re like.. one of the most independent people I have ever met. So why are you letting yourself rely on Ian so much when you know damn well you need to work on yourself.”

Mickey tightens his fists. He feels tears sting his eyes and looks away. “You’re a dick, man.”

Lip notices he’s shaking, so he backs off a little. “Look. Everyone’s treating you like a kid. That must be annoying, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’m here to tell you the truth. And the truth isn’t, ‘we’ll be here every time you need us’ because we won’t. We’re all adults who live real lives and have our own problems.”

“So what, I should just let this shit take over until I off myself?” 

“No. You reach out to us for help. But you don’t  _ rely  _ on us. Because Mickey,” Lip’s voice gets softer. He leans forward on his elbows and takes an onion ring from the table. “You’re gonna get better eventually. And I’m not saying you need to go down the independent road right now, because what you went through was absolutely awful, but you can’t keep letting this destroy you. Soon you’ll end up in a wheelchair with Ian pushing you around everywhere because you can’t trust anyone else.”

“I was fucking  _ tortured _ .”

“I know. And I’m sorry,” Lip carefully rests his hand over Mickey’s. “But you have a whole lot of people acting like you can’t take care of yourself. You’re the strongest guy I know, Mick. You just need to take the extra step to get better.”

“I don’t know what the fuck else I can do,” Mickey takes the hand not touched by Lip and wipes at his eyes. “Everytime I take a step it’s like, ‘oh, Mickey, you’re gonna get snatched the second you walk outside’ as if I’m not fucking terrified already. I’m lost, man,” Mickey sniffles. “I don’t…”

Lip gives him a look he can’t quite place, and that makes Mickey even more angry. He stands, pulling his hand away from Lip and taking a deep breath. 

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing! It’s like learning- learning how to talk again. I can’t even get in a fucking car, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat- so fuck you for telling me this is something I choose to be. If I could choose anything right now I would choose that they fucking killed me in there!” 

Everyone in the diner is staring at him now, but for the first time in weeks, Mickey doesn’t feel scared by the attention. He just feels the blinding rage taking over his mind. 

“Fuck you, Lip. Fuck your overbearing family and your overprotective ass neighbours that decided I was their property. I’m fucking done trying.” He goes to leave, but Lip’s hand wraps around his wrist, stopping him. 

“There it is.”

Mickey swats at the angry tears rushing down his cheeks. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The snap,” Lip stands, throwing some bills on the table and giving the scared looking waitress an apologetic nod. “The first step.”

Mickey breathes out shakily, tears still streaming from his eyes. Lip leads him outside and after about 10 minutes of walking in silence, he pushes him into another building, waving at the guy behind the desk and signing a paper. 

“What the fuck are you doing, asshole?”

“You’re angry. That’s good.”

Mickey looks around nervously, the rage still turning in his gut. Lip doesn’t say a word, just directs him to a different room and grabs his hands, wrapping them up tightly. Mickey stares at him and blinks. 

“Lip?”

After his hands are wrapped, Lip points to a punching bag. “Take it out.”

“What?”

“You’re pissed. At me, at your family, at the world. Take it all out.”

“This is fucking stupid.”

“I don’t care. This is the first step to getting better.” Lip takes his crutches and balances them against the wall, helping Mickey move closer toward the bag. “Punch it.”

Mickey eyes him through his tear soaked vision, before pulling back and placing a single punch on the bag. Lip has the nerve to laugh. 

“That was a pussy hit. Where’s the southside piece of trash you used to be?”

Mickey feels the anger building in his throat again. “Fuck you.”

“What, you're gonna hurt someone with your words?”

Mickey directs his attention back to the bag. 

“Pretend it’s your dad. Your homophobic, racist, drunken piece of shit father. What would you do to him if he were here right now? Show me.”

That's all the instruction he needs. Mickey takes a deep breath before hitting the bag again, then again, and again and again until his arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. He stops only then and steps back, taking a deep breath. 

“That was good.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I know. But do you feel better?”

Mickey tightens his fists in the dressings, nodding a little. There is sweat dripping from his nose and seeping through his shirt, but Lip is right, he feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. Lip hands him a towel and whistles quietly. 

“Did you mean what you said?”

Lip shrugs. “Most of it. You are independent as fuck, Mick, and I get that you feel really afraid right now, but I know you have it in you to get over this. And that was a good thing you did, telling people how you feel, taking it out in a good way.”

“When did you become a therapist?” Mickey wipes at the back of his neck, his breathing evening out. 

“I know what it’s like to feel like the world is out to get you, man,” Lip gives him his crutches. “But I also know how annoying it is when everyone pretends you don’t know how to take care of yourself.”

“What if I don’t?”

Lip thinks about it for a minute. “Then you can come to me, and I can show you. But you need to try.”

Mickey nods slowly, adjusting his sore arms on his crutches and taking some pressure off his foot. “Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Sorry for being a dick. But you needed someone to push you.”

“I know.”

They make it back to Lip’s car, and for once, Mickey hesitated for a minute before getting in, not triggering a stupid panic attack or anger outburst. Lip doesn’t speak a word, but Mickey knows him well enough to see when he’s proud. 

It’s a good feeling. 

-

Ian is sitting on his couch when Mickey gets home. Lip drops him off and goes into his own house, and Mickey presumes Kev and V took the kids out for the day, so they have the house to themselves. Ian looks up and gives him a smile as Mickey sits down next to him. 

“Hey, Mick.”

“Hey.”

Ian leans forward and kisses him gently, the both of them relaxing at the embrace of the other. Sometimes it’s really all they need. 

“I heard, uh, about the doctors appointment,” Mickey says once they pull apart, moving so his head is resting on Ian’s chest. Ian brings his hand up and runs it through Mickey’s long hair. “Are you good?”

“Yeah. Doctor said everything’s fine. I guess I’m just energetic now that you’re back.”

Mickey presses a kiss to his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I’ve been a real pain in the ass the last month. I’ve been putting a lot of stress on your plate. I’m gonna-“ Mickey closes his eyes, and breathes in the scent of Ian. Comfort. Safety. Home. “I’m gonna get better.”

Ian adjusts them so they’re laying on the couch, Mickey between his legs and on top of him. He moves to lightly trace shapes on his back, moving his fingers up and down Mickey’s soft shirt and keeping his lips pressed to his head. 

“I want you to get better too. But you don’t need to rush.”

“I don’t want to put this all on you. You never signed up for this.”

“And you didn’t sign up for my bipolar meltdowns, did you?”

Mickey laughs a little against his collarbone. “We’re both fucking crazy, huh.” 

“Yeah. But we help each other,” Ian closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the arm of the couch. “And it will all be fine.”

Mickey hates this question. Hates asking it and sounding like a little bitch, but somewhere in his brain, he needs the reassurance. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”

Ian tilts his head up with the hand not rubbing his back and kisses his lips gently. Their kisses are always rushed or passionate, never do they really have the loving feel both of them want to convey so desperately. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Mickey smiles and lays his head back down, gripping his shirt and letting Ian touch him, not in the sexual way they are both so used to, but soft and gentle, and it makes Mickey’s skin tingle. 

“Why are you so sweaty?”

“Lip took me boxing.”

“That’s hot. I’d like to see that.”

“You’re so gay, Gallagher.”

“Only for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been a rough few days. sorry in advance uploading might be slow. hope ur all doing well


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all mistakes are mine. i’d apologize for them but that would only humanize me and we all know how that works. tw for mentions of torture and panic attacks

“I’m glad to see you here.”

Mickey hums, fiddling with the stress toy he yanked off from the table the second he was forced to sit down in this boxy room. If there’s one single thing he’s appreciated over the last month of recovery, it’s the fact that he didn’t have to step foot in a therapist’s office. The knowledge that Ian is waiting outside is one of the only reasons he hasn’t left yet.

“How would you say you’re recovering?”

Mickey looks up from the object in his hands. “I dunno. Wouldn’t you ask the doctors that?”

“Emotionally. How are you recovering in your mind?”

“As good as I can, I guess,” Mickey mumbles. 

“On a scale of 1-10. One being, you’re absolutely horrified and on the verge of a panic attack at all times, and ten being, you’re fully recovered.”

Mickey ponders the thought in his mind for a little bit. “Uh. 5, maybe?”

“Okay. And what do you think you could do to bring that number up?”

“Isn’t that your fuckin’ job?”

She gives him a smile. “Alright. I can come up with something.”

Mickey nods, leaning against the couch and resuming his hands. It’s some stupid tangled rope thing that makes him want to break it, but Veronica said he has to give this all his effort, and the last thing he wants to do is piss of a pregnant lady. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna ask it even if I say no.”

The woman leans forward and places her clipboard down, clasping her hands together. “What happened?”

“What- huh? I got kidnapped. That’s really it.”

“No. What happened when you were abducted?”

“I don’t-“ Mickey darts his eyes toward the door, then to the clock. He still has quite some time here. 

“Can you remember it?”

Mickey nods slowly. “Most of it.”

“Then tell me.”

“I..”

Mickey clenches the toy so hard that it snaps, and the noise only freaks him out more, causing him to push himself back into the couch and squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Mickey? Are you having a panic attack?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey gasps. His therapist slowly moves forward so she’s sitting next to him on the couch. 

“Alright, let’s try to count-“

“It doesn’t fucking work! Not the counting- or- or the grounding  _ bullshit _ you told me before. None of it fucking works!”

For once, she seems at a loss for words. “What can help you?”

“I don’t- Ian.”

“Ian? Your boyfriend?”

“No shit.” Mickey has the mind to flinch when she leaves the room, and leans forward, digging his hands in his hair and pulling roughly. Sometimes pain is the only way to drag him out of these stupid episodes. 

“Hey, Mick.” 

Mickey looks up at Ian’s voice, his shoulders loosening. Ian kneels in front of him and takes his hands, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles and smiling gently at him. 

“It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I-“

“I know. You don’t have to talk.”

Mickey’s hands are still shaking, so Ian moves next to him and drapes his hand over his back, pulling him close. The therapist watches them with concern and interest in her eyes. 

After a few minutes of Ian just touching him and whispering kind encouragement, Mickey’s breathing slows down again, and the boy slumps against Ian’s chest, sighing heavily. 

“Would you like some water, Mickey?” The woman asks, carefully assessing the situation. Mickey doesn’t even hear her. 

“Mick,” Ian ducks his head to look Mickey in the eyes. “She asked if you wanted some water.”

Mickey nods slowly, so she grabs a water cup and fills it up, handing it to Mickey and sitting back down at her chair. She watches as Ian gently lifts the cup to Mickey’s mouth and encourages him to drink. 

“He doesn’t really like talking after panic attacks,” Ian directs his words toward her, his hand still wrapped around Mickey. 

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Sure.”

She looks carefully at Mickey before turning her attention to Ian. “He seems to really trust you,”

“Yeah.”

“Do.. do you feel as if this is a codependency sort of thing?”

Ian looks up, his eyes hardening. “He went through a lot. He deserves to have someone take care of him.”

“I know. I’m not saying he doesn’t. But, he seems like he needs you to be calm.”

“So? I get jumpy when I don’t see him all day.”

“Maybe some time apart would do you two good.”

“Listen, lady, I respect your job a whole lot, but don’t tell me how to help my boyfriend when I’m the only one who he feels safe with right now. Maybe in a bit he’ll need some space, but I know what he needs, and that’s me.”

She doesn’t flinch, only smiles gently. “I see. I’m sure he appreciates someone as caring as you. Would you look into exploring some different coping mechanisms for Mickey?”

“Sure. I dunno.”

She looks back at Mickey, whose eyes are more clear and who’s stopped shaking as much. “I think you need to tell somebody what happened. Doesn’t need to be me. Or Ian. Just somebody you feel you can trust with this information. The more you speak about it, the less affect it will have on you.”

Mickey nods, breathing out through his nose and sitting up straight. Ian keeps his hand rested on Mickey’s shoulder, a heavy weight, reminding him he’s still here. 

“Alright. I think that’s enough for today.”

Mickey’s never been more relieved. 

-

“Why are we watching this?”

Veronica directs a handful of popcorn to her open mouth, staring unimpressively at the TV in front of them. Kev had slid some stupid kids cartoon movie in, and frankly, nobody but him is happy with this choice. 

“Because, when the girls come, we need to get used to watching these.”

“Our girls can watch HGTV like the rest of us.”

Mickey keeps his gaze down at his hands. His therapist’s words keep running through his mind, and even though the session was over a day ago, he can’t focus on anything else. 

_ Just tell someone.  _

Mickey swallows thickly, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in deeply to gain some confidence, then reaches over and grabs the remote, pressing pause on the dumb movie. 

“Mick?”

Mickey sits back down against the couch, looking at a spot at the wall. “I need- I need to talk about it.”

Veronica carefully places a hand over his. “You don’t need to do anything, baby.”

“I do.”

Kev shares a glance with Veronica over his head and nods. “Alright. Go ahead.”

Mickey takes a deep breath. “They… they kept me tied to a chair. Didn’t even undo the ropes once. The first week or so I wouldn’t stop screaming, for, for Ian, for you guys. The leader, I don’t really know who he was, told me everytime I said Ian’s name it was- it was taking another day off my life. Said I was gonna die anytime there. Guess Terry told them everything.”

Veronica squeezes his hand, turning so she’s facing him. Mickey doesn’t look in her direction. 

“They all liked to hurt me. Cut me, a lot. Carved a lot of shit into me,” Mickey slowly pulls the hem of his shirt up, revealing a messy ‘fag’ carved deep into his hip. Kev’s breath hitches in his throat. 

“I don’t doubt they would’ve killed me. Kept saying it. Would show me pictures of Ian, or tell me stories about how he’s already dead, how he blames me. They told me you two had moved on already. That there was a funeral. That nobody was looking for me anymore.”

“We never stopped.”

Mickey glances over at Kev before clearing his throat. “Told me a bunch of awful shit. Shocked me everytime I said anything about Ian, asked where he was, if he was okay, all that shit. Pulled my nails out. Ripped my hair. They- they..”

“Yeah?”

“They would’ve killed me. That night. I heard them talking. I wanted them to kill me. So, so bad. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Veronica sniffles beside him, and Mickey feels guilty for making her cry, but he can’t stop now. 

“I begged them to do it. But- but it was Iggy. He couldn’t do it. He made me fake my death, or, or something.”

“Iggy?”

“My brother. Hadn’t heard from him in years, guess he’s still working for my dad.”

“Your brother let you get tortured like that?”

“He didn’t want to. Told me when I first woke up he would get me out when he needed to. I really wanted to die, mom,” Mickey feels the tears stinging his eyes, so he wipes at them with the back of his hand, trying to breathe properly. “I wanted to so bad. But Iggy got me out. And I don’t know if that was the best.”

“Of course it was, baby.”

“I’m so fucked up now. It’s like they did kill me, and, and now I’m some stupid pussy version of myself who cries when I need to get into cars!”

Veronica cups her hands around Mickey’s face, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks, and gets as close to Mickey as she can. “I would take any version of you over not having you at all.”

“I’m not who you wanted to adopt.”

“You’re you, sweetheart. You’re Mickey. That’s who we want.”

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut as tears start falling, unable to wipe them away in time, but Veronica keeps her thumbs under his eyes and brushes them off with the pads of her thumbs. 

“I would want to be your dad even if you had no limbs.”

It’s silent for a moment before Mickey coughs out a wet laugh. Kev looks at the two innocently as they start laughing, Mickey almost in hysterics, and he backtracks. 

“I mean, I just-“

“Christ, Kev,” Veronica sits up and wipes her tears from her face. “We were having a moment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Mickey sniffles after a beat, taking a deep breath. “I needed that.”

They fall back into comfortable silence, nobody really knowing how to approach this situation lightly, but Mickey knows he needs to assure himself what he so desperately wants to believe. He wipes at his face again before speaking. 

“They said I was forgotten.”

Veronica leans forward and presses herself against Mickey’s chest, shaking her head. “We never forgot. Never stopped looking.”

“I know.”

Kev carefully maneuvers himself into the scene, draping his arm against Mickey’s back and closing his eyes as the boy leans back against him. 

“I’m really fucking tired of being scared.”

Kev turns his head and presses a kiss to Mickey’s hair. “I know, kid.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“We’re here to help you, baby. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Even if you don’t have limbs.”

“Kevin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh anyway how are you all doing


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops sorry i didn’t update for a while lol

Mickey stares at the doctor, a frown indented on his face and his leg propped up against a pillow. Sometime around 3, he woke up screaming, his leg in blinding pain and his toes numb. Kev had ran into his room with a bat before realizing it was just his son, and immediately woke Veronica up to come with them to the hospital. They drugged him out and ran a bunch of tests, and now, 5 hours later, he sits impatiently as the woman shuffles her feet. 

Ian came around 7, followed by Fiona, who’s hair was braided into messy sections. Ian has that stupid look on his face that means he knows something is wrong. 

“What’s the damage?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady. Everyone has the scared look now. 

“You’re not going to like this news.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow and sits up as much as he can, wincing at the pain in his foot. “Okay.”

“We.. your foot, or, leg, more importantly, had quite an awful infection. The doctors over in Boston must not have treated it properly before putting it in the cast, because the infection spread, and…”

“And?”

“I’m afraid there is not much of an option other than… amputation.”

Mickey blinks. “You- what? Like, cut my foot off?”

“In a sense.”

“No fuckin’ way.” 

Ian reaches out and places a hand over his, but Mickey pulls it away, anger in his eyes as he glares at the doctor. 

“The infection was left untreated for weeks. It will only get worse if we don’t do this procedure.”

“No- can’t you just- like, clean it?”

“I’m afraid not,” she turns over her clipboard and shows him the X-Ray. “If you see here, the infection is quite literally gnawing away at the bone. There isn’t much time left.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“If it spreads any further, you could die.”

Mickey feels the breath catch in his throat. He inhales sharply and looks to the side, where Veronica is staring at him with a mix of sadness and pity in her eyes, and immediately returns his eyes to the doctor. 

“How- how long?”

“We think it would be best to go about the surgery tomorrow morning. We would keep you here today and until you are recovering properly afterward.”

“And I’ll for sure die if I don’t?”

“There’s no real way of saying, but there is a large chance that this could turn septic.”

Mickey bites down on the inside of his cheek. “I.. okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile. “Alright, Mickey. We will start you on an IV drip soon, but no more food until after the surgery.”

Mickey sniffs, looking down at his hands. “Okay.”

The second she leaves, Fiona steps forward, placing her soft hand on his uninjured leg. “Mickey?”

“I don’t- can you, uh, get out. Please.”

They all share a glance, but stand up to leave. Mickey reaches out and grips Ian’s wrist before he can go with them. Once the door closes, Ian turns to face him, moving so he’s holding his hand in both of his. 

“I’m sorry, Mick..”

“I’m gonna be- gonna be a fuckin’ cripple, Ian..”

Ian gently moves so he’s seated next to Mickey, pulling the older boy into his arms and rubbing his back. He makes sure to avoid any area around his leg, but that makes it a little difficult. Mickey presses his face into Ian’s collarbone and allows himself to cry. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“It’s fucking not!”

“It’s just a little change.”

“No it’s not!”

Ian cups the back of Mickey’s head, placing a kiss to his hair. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. I promise.”

After a few minutes of silent crying, Mickey pulls back, leaning against the pillows and wiping at his puffy face. Ian cups his cheek and leans forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. Mickey squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before pulling away. Ian adjusts so he’s laying down, keeping his cheek against Mickey’s chest. 

“You okay?”

“I guess.”

“Hey, you know what?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe they can get you a cool robot leg or something. Do you know how badass that would be?”

Against his odds, Mickey snorts out a laugh, tangling his finger in Ian’s shirt. “You’re a fucking dumbass, Gallagher.”

“I know.” Ian places a kiss on his jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You didn’t want this-“

Ian sits up a bit and cups Mickey’s face, shaking his head. “I did. I do. I will.” 

Mickey looks into his eyes, searching for a sign that tells him otherwise, but like always, Ian’s eyes are pure, untouched. It’s the part of him that drags him in deep and keeps him there. 

-

The next morning, surrounded by his family, Mickey gets wheeled into the operation room. The pretty nurse keeps her hand on his head, trying to ease his nerves, because Jesus Christ, Mickey’s about to get his fucking foot cut off. He briefly wonders just how much he’s been running up Kev and V’s bills, especially since she is this far along in her pregnancy. Everytime he brings it up, Veronica tells him to shut the hell up about it, because he’s their son, damnit, and they would spend every penny on this planet to make sure he’s healthy. 

“How are you feeling, Mickey?”

“Not great.”

The nurse, Rachel, or something generic like that, frowns deeply and nods. “I know.”

“I’m- I’m really fuckin’ scared, man.”

“It’s gonna be alright,” she looks around for a second before leaning in close. “Have you ever been high before?”

“Duh.”

“Then think of this as the best drug you’ll ever get. Take a couple inhales and you’re passed out. Plus, you always feel really nice afterward.”

Mickey blinks up at her as a mask is placed on his face. “I..”

She senses the panic in his eyes and gives him a soft smile. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Mickey. I promise.”

Mickey knows how much promises mean, especially in his world, so he squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in deeply a few times, allowing Rachel to stroke his hair and lull him to sleep. 

She’s right. It’s the best sleep Mickey has ever gotten. 

-

Ian keeps his eyes trained on the floor, shutting out the noise of his family as they chatter loudly. The doctors told them to come back in the evening, knowing the procedure will take a long time and there is no telling when Mickey will wake up, so their family, plus Kev and V, are all trying to distract themselves with TV and what they love best, talking. 

“Ian?”

His head tilts up, making eye contact with Lip, who has that worried face back, the one that plagued him for the 20 days Mickey went missing. Lip fell into the caregiver role quite easily, and as much as Ian dreads it, he doubts he would be functioning right now if not for his older brother. 

“He’s gonna be okay.”

“Is he?” Ian hates the way his voice cracks. The room goes silent as Fiona mutes the TV. 

“Of course. They said it’s a safe procedure-“ 

Ian interrupts Kev’s words, sniffling. “Is he going to be  _ okay,  _ though. He.. he’s been through so fucking much, it’s only a matter of time before he snaps. I don’t- I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

Fiona reaches over and grips his hand. “If something… bad, like that, were to happen, we would be there. For him. For you.”

“I can’t- I don’t want to be without him. Ever.”

Veronica, through her glassy eyes, gives him a look of pure emotion that Ian can’t quite place. “He doesn’t want to be without you either, Ian. You two love each other, and that’s enough to help him get better.”

“He doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Ian takes his hand that isn’t held by Fiona and wipes at his eyes. 

“He has to be okay. He’s like, the coolest person I know,” Carl speaks up, his words muffled by where his face is pressed against the couch cushion. He looks up at Ian. “Did’ja see his tattoos? I want those.”

“No tattoos.” Fiona shakes her head. 

“Mickey braided my hair once,” Debbie fiddles with her fingers. “Before he was even part of the family. I told him I couldn’t sleep without somebody and he stayed with me until I fell asleep.”

Ian wipes at his face again, a smile on his lips. 

“He would do these stupid things,” Lip says, chuckling a little. “Send me pictures of things he thought were funny or interesting. He could hold a conversation with me, and even when we talked about heavy shit, he knew what he meant. He doesn’t filter himself for anybody.”

“He watched Liam without question any time I needed him to, and never accepted my money. He would slip it back when he thought I wasn’t looking.” Fiona squeezes Ian’s hand. 

“I taught him how to shave,” Kev smiles sadly. “He- he was so stubborn when he first came to live with us. I always wanted a son-“ he widens his eyes. “And- and daughters. Of course. But Mickey was everything I wanted in a kid. Still is.”

Veronica reaches over and grips Kev’s hands. “I didn’t want kids.” She looks down at the floor. “Kev convinced me to become a foster parent, and god, it was the best decision I’ve ever made.” She glanced over at Ian. “Mickey will be alright. Even if he isn’t, he knows he has the biggest, most supportive family on the earth. He’s gonna turn out okay.”

Ian sniffles, pulling his hand away from Fiona and nodding. “I don’t.. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, buddy,” Lip knocks his shoulder against his. “We know how much you care about him.”

“I wish I could take all his problems away.”

“But you can’t.”

“I know.”

“Then there’s no bother in trying to convince yourself you can.”

Ian blinks, turning to look at Lip. “When did you become a therapist?”

Lip snorts a little, remembering those exact words coming from Mickey. “Somewhere along the line.”

-

True to their words, the whole Gallagher clan is sitting in Mickey’s room when he wakes up, disoriented and confused and missing his left leg. Ian strokes his hair and Veronica calmly explains it to him and the rest of the group stares meaningfully at the kid. Mickey doesn’t cry. Just nods and looks deep into Ian’s eyes, knowing that if the redhead tells him he’ll be okay, he will. 

Ian wouldn’t lie to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was impulsively going to do something quite bad in this story. you are all very lucky that i did not. anywho, i watched a movie recently and my annoying adhd brain has decided to forget about everything other than that movie, so i’m sorry in advance if i can’t muster up a chapter for a while. love you all stay safe and feel free to message me whenever on twitter if u want to chat or yell at me for my stories idk @mxckeymilk0vich


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw- i don’t want to go into specifics because it will count as a spoiler, but there is mentions of a heavy topic. go down to the end notes if you would like more context on that.

Mickey has, to the best extent, been recovering nicely. The limb was taken right above the mid mark of his calf, or more so just below his kneecap, and though he deems himself pathetic as he moves around in a wheelchair, some small part of him is thankful for the removal, knowing how useless his leg was prior. 

Everyone is babying him. Even Lip. They get him water if he clears his throat and brushes his hair when they find a knot. It’s overwhelming, but deep down, he appreciates this effort. It makes him feel less big. 

“You okay?” Ian asks, for the hundredth time in the last 4 weeks. 

“Peachy.”

“Are you excited for the prosthetic?”

“Not excited for the check.”

Ian huffs out something frustrated. Mickey doesn’t look up from his computer. He sends off another college application, sitting back and gnawing down on his inner cheek. 

“You’ll give yourself sores.”

“That’s the literal least of my problems right now, Gallagher. Fuckin’ mouth sores, Jesus..”

Ian peeks over the magazine in his hands. He’s laying on his stomach, body facing Mickey as it usually is now. He always feels the need to be around him. Touching him, laying with him, staring at him as he sleeps. It’s creepy, but cute. Mickey likes having him close. 

“Want me to change the bandages?”

Mickey peeks down at the leg, or lack thereof. “I can do it myself just fine.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you got like, shit to do?”

Ian shrugs. “Kev wants me to help at the Alibi in an hour. Nothing to do till then.”

Mickey grunts a little. “Of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He doesn’t want me coming to the bar with him anymore. Says the dickheads there don’t know boundaries or some shit, as if I can’t take it.”

Ian places the magazine down on the bed and rests his cheek on his hand. “You could come with me?”

Mickey smirks. He likes the idea of being out of the house, especially since the only activity he’s done has been going to physical therapy. The woman there doesn’t flinch at his cursing or mention his tears. She reminds him of his mom. 

“Sure thing.”

Ian meets his eyes and nods a little, a simple gesture that the two have developed that usually means, ‘okay’, in its entirety. Mickey does it when Ian gives him the worry eyes, and Ian likes to replicate the move. They have a lot of unspoken words between them. He picks up the magazine and continues reading. 

Their peaceful silence is interrupted by a loud yell from the kitchen. Mickey furrows his eyebrows and closes his laptop, swinging his leg over the bed and moving onto his wheelchair. He rolls himself into the room, blinking nervously at the mess in front of him. 

A broken place. A panicked Veronica. A wet spot on the floor. 

“Did you-“

“Call Kev!”

Ian pops into the room, concerned at the noise. He takes one look at Veronica and grabs his phone, quickly dialling the number he knows by heart. Mickey moves over to her and helps her avoid the glass, wincing as she grips his hand tightly. 

“Are you..”

“Holy shit. They’re coming.”

Mickey peeks down at her stomach, which has grown considerably larger than any pregnant woman he has seen before. That is, of course, because of the twins. It freaks Mickey out. 

“Kev said he can meet us at the hospital.”

“I don’t have a fucking car!” She yells, squeezing her eyes shut as another contraction makes its way through her body. Mickey helps her sit down as much as he can and shakes his head. 

“Grab my crutches. We can take the car next door.”

“Fiona’s? She took it.”

“No, dipshit. The other house. I can hotwire it.”

“How are you gonna hotwire a car? You only have one leg, Mick!”

“I have both fucking hands! Hurry the fuck up, dumbass.”

Ian runs back to his room, grabbing the crutches and helping Mickey stand. He directs his attention to Veronica, who’s breathing heavily and gripping at the table. 

“Are- are you okay?”

Veronica opens her eyes, sending a glare his way. “I have two kids coming out of me, do you think I’m okay?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ian grabs her hand and leads her to the front door, where he picks up the large bag they had prepared for this moment. The three of them rush outside, Mickey leaning over the passenger’s seat to turn the neighbours car on, and Ian climbing into the driver's seat. 

“We’ll be there in 15.”

“Fuck!”

Mickey turns to look back at Veronica. “Wh- what can we do?”

“Step on it, Jesus Christ!”

Ian speeds to the hospital, going at least 20 miles over the speed limit, and they arrive way sooner than he planned. He jumps out of the car and opens the backseat, helping Veronica out, gasping when her nails dig into his palm. Mickey gets out, going as quick as he can into the building. It’s times like these he really wishes he had a second leg. 

“My- my mom, she’s- babies-“

The lady at the front desk stands up, a worried look on her face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Mickey takes a deep breath, looking back to where Ian is guiding Veronica into the hospital. “She’s in labour.”

“Oh- oh, alright. Let’s get a wheelchair out for her,” she directs the last sentence to a doctor near them, who gets a wheelchair and goes toward the door. Veronica happily sits down, breathing heavily through her nose, and looks up at Mickey with fear in her eyes. 

“Is the father coming?” The receptionist asks Mickey. 

“Yeah- yeah, he’s coming. Soon.”

“Alright. We can get her fixed up in a room, how about you two go sit down and we can call you back once the baby is delivered.”

“Babies,” Mickey corrects. He narrows his eyebrows. “We can’t go in?”

“I’m afraid it’s rather… off for the children to be present during a birth.”

“I don’t-“ Mickey is cut off when Ian places a hand on his back. 

“C’mon, Mick. Kev will be here soon.”

Mickey adjusts himself on his crutches. “No- she’s.. she’ll be alone. No.”

Veronica grips onto the bottom of Mickey’s hoodie, shaking her head. “It’s fine, baby, Kev is gonna be here.”

“What- what if-“

“Mick,” Ian speaks into his ear. Mickey bites down on his lip and nods, sending Veronica away on the wheelchair. He stares at the back of her head as she retreats into a room, then is out of sight. 

“Let’s go sit down.”

Kev arrives less than 10 minutes later, panting heavily and looking around like a crazed man. He doesn’t even notice Mickey or Ian, just walks right up to the receptionist and spits out her name, then is directed back to the room Veronica is in.

“You okay?” Ian asks, looking worriedly at Mickey, who has bitten off all his finger nails and is moving on to chewing off his cuticles. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

Mickey inhales sharply through his nose, lowering his hand and closing his eyes. “I don’t like hospitals.”

Ian moves closer and links his hand with Mickey’s, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to his torn skin. “I know.”

“Fuck, what if- what if she’s not okay?”

“She will be. Doctor said she’s all ready and healthy last appointment, eh?”

“I guess..”

“So relax. You will have two awesome, healthy baby sisters after this.”

Mickey peeks around the room, finding everybody off in their own world, and carefully rests his cheek on Ian’s shoulder. 

They sit there for a few hours, a few of the other Gallagher’s joining them. Fiona and her newest boyfriend, Steve (who greets Mickey with a handshake and stares at his missing leg until finally asking, only to be slapped in the arm by Fiona) arrive first, then Lip and Carl. Debbie stayed home with Liam, is what was picked up. 

Eventually, the sky turns to dark, and Mickey gets awfully tired of sitting around and waiting as if he isn’t part of the family in there. With Carl resting on his leg and his head cuddled on Ian’s chest, he falls asleep, anxiety and anger in his brain. 

That’s never a good mix. 

-

Mickey wakes up to someone shaking him roughly. He lets out a grunt and flinches awake, blinking a few times until Kev’s face comes into view. He looks exhausted, yet content. 

“Kev?”

“There- there was some complications. She had to have a c section. One… one of the girls, she was a stillborn, or- or whatever the doctors called her. But… V and the other baby are doing very well.”

Mickey rubs his eyes, sitting up straighter. “Wh- what?”

“One of them didn’t make it, Mick,” Fiona says, a frown set on her face. 

“Shit…”

“It’s okay,” Kev assured him. “We.. she’s doing good.”

Mickey scratches at his eyebrow, looking sadly at the ground. Kev taps his cheek gently and shakes his head. 

“It’s alright, kid.”

“Is it?”

“We have one, a really healthy baby girl. And a really healthy mom. Maybe it was for the best.” 

Mickey nods slowly, and Kev brings his hand up to tousle his hair. 

“Now c’mon, V wants you to meet your sister.”

Mickey grabs his crutches, following Kev into the other room. He stops at the sight of Veronica, her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, and a tired smile on her face. There are two baby cribs, but only one is occupied. 

“Are you okay?” Mickey asks after a few beats, looking down at Veronica. She nods, and Kev walks over to her, grabbing her hand. 

“Wh- what’d you name her?” Mickey looks over at the baby in the crib, unable to keep the smile off his face. He moves himself closer toward it, staring down at the sleeping baby. 

“Amy.”

Mickey nods, balancing himself one a single crutch and reaching his hand out. He stops himself an inch away from the baby, before Kev’s voice speaks out. 

“You can touch her.”

Mickey shakes his head slowly. “I don’t want to break her.”

“You won’t break her, honey.” Veronica smiles gently at him. Kev walks to him. 

“How about you sit down? You can hold her.”

Mickey darts his eyes back to Veronica, who nods. He slowly lowers himself onto the bed next to her, placing his crutches against the wall, and tries to keep himself as still as possible while Kev gently places Amy in his shaking arms. 

“She’s so tiny…”

Kev sits down on the chair, facing both of them. He nods and smiles at the scene. 

“I’m sorry about..” Mickey cuts himself off, bringing his other hand out. As gently as he can, he strokes his thumb over Amy’s cheek, sighing quietly. 

“It’s okay,” Veronica replies. “Maybe we were only meant to have two kids.”

“You were going to.”

Veronica places her hand on his arm. “You and her.”

“Oh..”

Mickey blinks, staring down at the child in his arms. Amy stirs a little, opening her small mouth, showing off her no tooth smile. 

“Hey, kid..” Mickey speaks, his voice soft. “You got a good mom and dad.”

Maybe it’s the emotions, the hormones, or simple exhaustion, but Veronica feels the tears stream down her face at his words. Kev reaches out and grabs her hands.    
  


“We’ve got a good family.”

Mickey looks up at Kev at his words, nodding. He knows now that no heartbreak, no Terry Milkovich, no lifelong pain or sorrow could ever mess with the most valuable force. 

Family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for miscarriage/delivery of a stillborn. sorry, you know me, i can’t simply have a happy chapter without adding some angst. hope you all are doing well. also, this IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. i may have something special planned for the next one, but you won’t know for a little while........ ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I truly hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know what you think, I live off of comments and kudos ;)


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